


Celeste MacFusty and the Secret Magic

by kaylaceleste



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood Curse, F/F, F/M, M/M, Quidditch, The Cure (Band) References, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22694464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaylaceleste/pseuds/kaylaceleste
Summary: Celeste MacFusty isn't your average Hogwarts first year student.  She has a special type of magic that could end up getting her expelled if anyone found out.  Charlie Weasley is in his last year at Hogwarts (one year before Harry Potter's first year) and his life goals are about to shift under his feet.This fan fic seeks to answer some questions about Charlie, the Weasley who appears the least in the HP series.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. The Letter

Celeste Irene MacFusty hated her name. Her first two names made her sound like an old woman, and her last name made her sound like a cartoon. Moreover, her father named her Celeste (after his grandmother for Christ’s sake!) and gave her the surname MacFusty. Then eight years later, her father abandoned her.

What Celeste did like about herself was almost everything else. She was smart (not top of the class smart but she usually knew the right answer, and her teachers always said that she asked very good questions), she was athletic, and she was hilarious. She was the kind of person who made friends easily, which was a good thing because she changed schools every few years.

She didn’t change schools because her mother was in the military or worked in an international company or anything like that. Celeste MacFusty changed schools because she couldn’t stop getting expelled. She always managed to find a new school rule to break, without even trying. Sometimes, she broke rules that weren’t even rules yet, but became rules once she had broken them.

And so, one June afternoon, close to the end of the school year, she sat in the principal’s office of the fifth school she had ever attended in the short eleven years of her life.

“Celeste, can you please explain to me exactly how you managed to get up on the roof of the school theater?” the principal asked in an exasperated voice.

“Umm, I’m sorry Mrs. Underwood, but honestly, I can’t.”

The principal sighed and tried to rub her temples but her long manicured nails made it a bit awkward.

“There are no other buildings nearby, and no walls or trees that you could have climbed to get up there. We had to call the fire department to bring a ladder tall enough to reach you.”

This wasn’t a question, so Celeste didn’t answer. Mrs. Mathewson shuffled some papers on her desk.

“I have a report from one kid that said you teleported, and another that says you flew. I assume these are your cronies?”

“If you mean Jared and Mike, they were chasing me! You should have called them into your office!”

“I have, and they both claim that you three were playing a simple game of tag, when you suddenly disappeared and reappeared on top of the school theater.”

“Tag?!? They were trying to take my snack!” Celeste fumed. “This is so unfair! Why do I always get punished for this kind of thing?”

“Well, you do have a record, so maybe you should think about that. It’s probably not everyone else who has the problem.”

Celeste’s mother, Elizabeth, seemed to agree.

“Honestly, Celene!” her mother sighed. She always called Celeste by the first part of her first name and the last part of her second name, Cel(este)-(Ir)ene. "What else can you possibly do? You’ve run away-”

“I took a little excursion during break time. And I found my way back without a problem. I don’t know why everyone got so upset.”

“You’ve tampered with countless cafeteria menus-”

“If you’re talking about those awful fish sticks they used to feed us, that really wasn’t my fault! I didn’t fill them with chocolate instead of fish. There must have been a mistake at the factory or something. How did I even get blamed for that?”

“You’ve exploded things-”

“Never on purpose!”

“And after those explosions, you always seem to end up destroying your clothes and running around naked!”

“It’s not like I wanted to be naked in front of everyone,” Celeste muttered. “You think that’d be punishment enough. I’m actually really glad I got to change schools after that.”

“This is not a game, Celene!” Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are going into junior high next year! Can you please stop acting like a rambunctious five year old?!”

Celeste shrank into herself, her heart pounding as she quietly waiting for her mother to stop yelling. Ever since her dad left, she and her mother hadn’t gotten along very well. Her mom yelled at her more often and blamed Celeste for everything, even for her father leaving. Their fights often ended in tears and confusion. Even now, Celeste squinted, trying to remember why she was so scared of making her mother yell, but her memories were fuzzy. She was just left with the general impression that her mother yelling was a very very bad thing.

“I mean, Christ! It’s not enough that I have to work all day, but then to get called home early, out of an important meeting, to collect you from school because you were climbing the buildings! Honestly, I don’t know anyone else whose kids do this kind of thing at this age!”

Celeste remained quiet during the rest of the drive home, and was finally rewarded for her patience.

“Well, at least Mrs. Underwood said that they won’t expel you this time. There’s only one more week left of fifth grade. Can you please try to toe the line until the end of the school year?”

“Yes, mom,” Celeste said sedately.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said bitterly. “Now, I have to get back to the office to finish with some clients. Can you please keep out of trouble for the next few hours?”

“Yes, mom.”

Elizabeth pulled into the driveway of their small, one story, two bedroom house. It wasn’t much to look at, but it sat on five acres of land dense with trees and a creek, located at the base of the Catskill mountains in New York. Their closest neighbors were half a mile down the road and out of view.

“I’ll see you in a few hours. Order pizza if you get hungry.”

“Okay.”

Elizabeth backed up down the driveway and drove back the way they’d come. Celeste dropped her school bag right inside the door, but instead of entering the house, she turned around and headed towards her favorite clearing in the woods. She needed to un-stress.

She quietly slipped out of her clothes and folded them neatly on the ground. There was a reason that she ruined her clothes sometimes at school. It was because she left them on when she unleashed her magic.

True, she knew she wasn’t supposed to unleash it around other people, but sometimes it got the best of her. For the most part though, she could control it. Even when it burst out, she usually managed to harness it in again within seconds. Less than a second. She was getting really good at controlling it. And one of the best ways to make sure that she kept control was to let it out when it was safe to do so.

And so she stood alone and naked in the clearing by her house, and released it. Instantly, the sounds of the forest died. Birds in the trees went mute. Squirrels froze in the branches above her. The entire forest held its breath while Celeste stretched and strode into a small patch of sunlight.

Most of the time when she changed, she ran away, seeking solitude. Today, she was tired and alone, and all she wanted was to curl up in the sunlight and take a quick nap. But just as she closed her eyes she got the feeling that she wasn’t alone. 

She opened her eyes again and scanned the tree line. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. Yet she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. So she stood up and snorted, then took a big breath, her nostrils flaring, smelling for anything unusual.

Something shifted in the top branches of a nearby tree, and Celeste caught the scent of some kind of cat. A long yellow tail flicked below a branch, and followed a large furry body in a hasty retreat.

Celeste growled at the retreating form of the mountain lion. Then, completely unfazed by the proximity of a dangerous predator, she curled back up and tried to fall asleep again.

Knock knock knock.

Was that someone knocking on her door? She hadn’t heard any cars approaching.

“Hello? Celeste MacFusty?” A man’s voice drifted down to the trees from the direction of the house. Quickly, Celeste forced her magic back inside of her and threw on her clothes.

She scrambled up to the front door to find a kind looking old man sitting on her wooden porch swing, humming to himself.

“Ah, there you are.” The old man had a long white beard and matching hair which both hung past the emerald leather belt holding up his purple pinstriped trousers. His light blue eyes twinkled behind a pair of half moon glasses, and the twinkle reflected a kind smile that sat comfortably on his face, as if it were his usual expression.

As those eyes twinkled at her, Celeste had the strangest feeling that the man was looking past her face, that he was looking deep inside of her.

“Hi, I’m Celeste.” Celeste shook hands with the old man. “Um, have we met?”

“Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’ve come to offer you a place at my school next year.”

Celeste just stared at the man. On the one hand, he was clearly insane. On the other hand, she knew magic did exist. After all, she just did magic not five minutes ago.

“Umm, Hogwarts school of ...”

“Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is one of the best schools of magic in the world, if I do say so myself. Normally, you would receive your letter of acceptance the normal way, by owl post, but your father asked that I deliver it specially, and under the circumstances I thought he was quite right.”

“My father?”

“Yes, he also attended Hogwarts, almost thirty years ago, and I had the great pleasure of teaching him Transfiguration. Ahh, I can see by your face that that’s not much of a recommendation,” Dumbledore said gently.

“My father abandoned us. Why would he care what school I went to?” Celeste asked bitterly.

“That is not for me to say. Perhaps there is more to the story than you or I know. But be that as it may, the purpose of my visit is to offer you a position at my school.”

“I don’t want it.”

Dumbledore paused, letting the silence work its own special magic for a while.

“What a pity, to let a grudge, however right you may think you are in holding onto it, determine your future.” Dumbledore reached into an inner pocket of his purple pinstriped jacket and pulled out a long thin piece of wood. He pointed it at a sycamore leaf on the ground and it floated up to dance in between them.

“Are you going to let your hate prevent you from learning how to do this?” he asked gently.

The leaf landed gracefully on its stem and sprouted into a flowing sapling, growing right out of the wooden planks. Celeste reached out and touched a branch, a small tear falling down her cheek.

“I ... I don’t want to hate,” she whispered. “I hate that I hate him. But how do I let it go?” She turned a troubled face to Dumbledore, who waved his wand at the sapling again, returning it to back a simple leaf.

“That, my dear, is a very difficult question to answer. And only you can do so, I think.” Dumbledore reached into his inner pocket again and pulled out a large, cream colored envelope. He handed it to Celeste and she saw her full name written across it in emerald green ink.

“Excuse me, professor Bumble-?”

“Dumbledore.”

“Right. Professor Dumbledore. But, are you sure you have the right person? I mean, I know that I can do some magic, but I never thought I was ... well, I don’t think I can do anything like what you just did.”

Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly at Celeste.

“I’m quite certain I have the right person. Your name has been down in our books since your birth. And I think that you’ll find that you can do a bit more magic than you think.”

Celeste hesitated, wondering if she should tell him that the only thing she could do was unleash a monster, but then she remembered how she suddenly teleported onto a roof only earlier today, and the fish sticks, and the time she almost drowned in the lake, but breathed in air underwater, and was able to kick her way to the surface again.

So she closed her gaping mouth, and opened her envelope. Inside was a formal acceptance letter and a list of school materials.

“I ... I don’t know where to buy all this stuff,” Celeste stammered.

“I can take you.”

“But ... but I should tell my mother. I can’t just leave.”

“Of course you should tell your mother. But not a word to her about magic, do you understand?” Dumbledore became suddenly serious. “Witches and wizards must keep our magic secret from Muggles, non magical people,” Dumbledore added seeing the confused look on Celeste’s face.

“Alright. But then what do I tell her?”

“If you agree, perhaps we can talk to her together. I can come by this Sunday morning, and say that you have been offered a scholarship to an elite British boarding school. And towards the end of summer, we can make arrangements for you to come to London, where I will help you purchase your school equipment, and find you a place to stay until the term begins.”

Celeste found herself nodding. Professor Dumbledore nodded back and offered his hand.

“Until Sunday morning then. And you might want to have a bit more care with that Wampus cat roaming these woods.”

“The what?” Celeste turned to look at the patch of trees where Dumbledore was pointing. A large mountain lion was standing on its hind legs like a human, gazing at them with brilliant yellow eyes.

“This one seems to be merely curious, I think,” Dumbledore said staring back at it. “But they are fearsome warriors when they chose.”

The Wampus cat blinked at them, then leapt straight up into the treetops and bounded out of sight. Dumbledore watched it go, then turned to Celeste and with a wink, he spun on the spot and disappeared.

Celeste stood stunned for a moment, wondering if she had just dreamed up everything, but then she realized that she was still holding her acceptance letter. She clung to the letter with a shaking hand, and flipped over the envelope again, and felt glad for the first time in her life to see her full name.


	2. Diagon Alley

Early in the morning of August 25th, Celeste and her mother drove to the airport and met Professor Dumbledore outside of the international terminal. Dumbledore waited as Celeste said goodbye. 

“Behave yourself, please,” Elizabeth said yet again as she smoothed Celeste’s long dark hair away from her forehead.

“I will, mom.”

“I’ll come to London to pick you up after the school year.”

“Alright. See you then.” They shared a quick hug.

“Behave!” Elizabeth shouted again as Celeste and Professor Dumbledore disappeared through the automatic doors.

“So when does our flight leave?” Celeste asked, wondering if she had time to grab a snack. Dumbledore pulled out a pocket watch glanced at it briefly.

“Our portkey leaves in eleven minutes. We’d best walk a bit faster,” Dumbledore replied.

“Wait, what?” Celeste jogged to keep up with Dumbledore’s long strides. Dumbledore did not reply, but lead her down a long walkway away from the security checkpoint leading to the gates. He turned left down a smaller corridor and finally stopped.

“Ahh, here we are.”

Celeste looked around. They were at a rubbish collection point near a pair of service elevators. A few people passed by on the main aisle, but no one else had turned down their small corridor.

“Thirty seconds left. Best to do this the quick way.” Dumbledore pulled out his wand and flicked it in a shallow arch. A dark green bottle dislodged itself from the pile and soared into his left hand.

“Grab ahold, Celeste.” Celeste obediently reached out and touched the bottle.

“Don’t let go.” Dumbledore stowed his wand and grabbed ahold of her upper arm.

Celeste barely had time to look up at Dumbledore’s face and open her mouth, when she felt a very unpleasant sensation, like a hook sinking into her stomach, behind her belly button. She soon found herself jerked into motion, pulled by that hook almost instantaneously across thousands of miles.

The beast inside of her roared in fear and confusion, but the hand on her arm seemed to hold her inside of her own body. In a few seconds the hook disengaged and she was standing again, Dumbledore’s hand holding her upright.

She gasped and doubled over, shaking, trying to keep her breakfast and her darkness inside of her.

“Are you alright, Celeste?”

She didn’t dare open her mouth, but she nodded and Dumbledore released her. She took a few wobbly steps over to a wooden bench and sank down, putting her head in between her knees.

“Here you are, Tom,” Dumbledore handed the bottle to a man behind the counter with a bald head and walnut like face. “We’ll be back for dinner and to check young Celeste into her room.”

“Very good, sir.”

At that Celeste raised her head and looked around. They were in a small, shabby looking pub that was unusually dark, despite the early hour. Celeste then noticed that there were very few windows, and a great deal of pictures on the walls. She watched as the occupants of these paintings passed from one frame to another, and barely registered this before Dumbledore returned to lead her outside.

As she stood up, Tom nodded kindly to her. She smiled to him as she exited the pub.

They stood in a small patio behind the pub. Dumbledore pulled out his wand and tapped a particular brick on the wall. The brink quivered and wriggled and finally opened up into an archway leading to a small pedestrian road lined with the most unusual shops Celeste had ever seen. She passed by windows displaying broomsticks, screeching unidentifiable animals, toys that hovered midair, and an ice cream shop advertising a mystery flavor and a prize to the first witch or wizard to correctly identify it.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” Professor Dumbledore smiled as he watched her amazed face.

“Diagon Alley? Like diagonally? That’s clever,” Celeste smiled.

Celeste would have stopped and spent hours taking everything in, but Dumbledore walked with purpose up to the largest building in the alley, Gringotts Bank.

Some time later, Celeste and Dumbledore stood at the entrance to a small Gringotts vault: Celeste’s vault. Celeste had no idea that she had a vault. It was small and the only thing inside was an envelope that was propped up against a bulging leather pouch. Celeste opened the envelope to find a note written in dark purple ink. She did not recognize the handwriting.

Dearest Celeste,  
This should allow you to buy all of your new school supplies, a pet, and still be enough for a bit of extra spending. I'm very proud of you and I know that you will do well at Hogwarts.  
Your father,  
Duncan MacFusty

"Seriously? That's the note he writes to me after years of abandonment?" Celeste crumpled up the paper and threw it back on the ground next to the pouch of gold. She turned around to leave but hesitated at the door.

"Professor, I don't want to take his money. But I really do want to go to Hogwarts. Is there any other way?"

"Yes,” Professor Dumbledore said quietly. "The school does have a small fund for children who can not afford admission.”

“Would ... would it be possible to fund me?” Celeste asked timidly. “I wouldn’t be taking the spot away from some other kid who really couldn’t pay for it, would I?”

"No, every student who wants to learn will always be fully funded at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said. “However, the school funds aren’t extensive, and you would have to buy several of your things second hand.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Celeste said with relief. “I’d rather have second hand supplies, than be indebted to him.” 

Dumbledore nodded to her with a sad understanding in his eyes. “As you wish.”

* * * * *

Fortunately for Celeste, she never cried from frustration. She was now trying her 137th wand. So far, none of them had reacted in any way. The small doubt that began when the first wand didn’t react, had now grown to a lung-crushing fear.

“You are a bit of a challenge, aren’t you? Well, I do enjoy a tricky customer." Ollivander smiled as he took the last wand, cherry and unicorn hair, from her.

"I can't really do magic, can I?" Celeste asked. She glanced at Dumbledore who was sitting in a spindly legged chair, long legs crossed, watching her with polite interest as she failed spectacularly at trying out wands.

"On the contrary, my dear. I believe that you simply haven't yet met a wand brave enough to rise to the challenge you present." Mr. Ollivander said.

Celeste gave him a puzzled look as he reached under the counter and produced five black boxes.

"This is my reserve stock. The last five wands in the shop. As a general rule, I don’t allow anyone to try one unless they have tried every other wand in the shop first.

“Here we are,” Ollivander sorted through the boxes, looking for one in particular. He found the box he was looking for and removed a light brown wand with a few streaks of red running through it. The handle wasn’t carved unlike some of the other, more intricate wands she had tried, but rather it was formed by a natural bulge in the wood.

He handed it to Celeste who gripped it hesitantly. The wand pulsed fiercely in her palm. Celeste noticed that it was rigid and heavier than she expected, and something about it made her feel slightly afraid.

“Elder and dragon heartstring. The wood from this wand comes from the oldest Elder tree I have ever encountered. And the core, well, the core came from Morag, the most feared dragon Great Britain has ever known. The same dragon that your father killed just around the time you were born."

Celeste frowned. Ollivander’s words weren’t exactly a sterling recommendation in her eyes. She wanted to put the wand back on the counter, but Ollivander nodded encouragingly, so she waved the wand once half-heartedly.

To her surprise a single, dark purple star shot out and fizzled feebly for a few seconds before dying. She looked at Ollivander expectantly.

"Hmm. Interesting." Ollivander furrowed his brow and after a moments hesitation, he took the wand and placed it back in the box. Celeste watched as he slid that box to the side. "Holly and phoenix feather." Ollivander handed her a beautiful yet simple wand. She waved it once timidly, to no effect.

"No, no, I thought not. Acacia and phoenix feather. No, no." Ollivander grabbed that wand almost mid-wave. "Ebony and three strands of hair from a baby unicorn."

This wand tingled warmly in Celeste's hand. The sensation brought a smile to her face. It was surprisingly flexible and swooshed nicely as she swept it majestically through the air, releasing ... one single small golden star that sputtered out almost instantly.

"Hmmm. How strange." Ollivander put that wand aside with the dragon heartstring wand, and drummed his fingers on the last box for a moment before opening it up.

"This wand was crafted from the finest specimen of a cherry tree I have ever encountered, hidden deep in rural Japan. The core is made of a single dragon heartstring from a Chinese Firebolt.” Ollivander reverently placed the thin wand in Celeste's hand.

"Please, please," she whispered. But even as she began to wave it, she knew that it would not respond. She waved it anyway, and waited patiently as nothing happened. Then she placed it back on Ollivander's counter.

“Sh-should I perhaps try another shop?" She asked him over the lump that was building up in her throat.

"No. No. This can't be. Every customer, for hundreds of years! I don't understand." Ollivander turned to the doorway and waved his wand. “Yes, the spell is still intact, I haven't neglected to build any new wands. Did she try every single one?" he muttered to himself.

Again he waved his wand around his head. Nothing happened. He continued to mumble under his breath and turned in a half circle, putting his back to Celeste. Celeste reached out for the two wands that Ollivander had placed aside.

The ebony wand again tingled nicely in her hand. The elder wand pulsed fiercely. She tried waving each one again and again, each time producing one feeble flickering star. Her desperation mounted. Dumbledore stood up and began walking towards her, and Ollivander turned around again just as she placed both wands in the same hand and waved them together.

A crack shot out and a blinding golden light filled the room. Hundreds of gold and purple stars shimmered overhead. Pent up tears finally ran down Celeste's cheek as she grinned up at them.

"That's it, right, sir? Did I do it?" Celeste looked from Ollivander to Dumbledore. Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled with amazement underneath his raised eyebrows.

“I would say so,” Dumbledore said as he caught Celeste’s eye and winked.

Ollivander, however, ignored the stars, instead staring at Celeste's hand, where she clutched a single wand. The ebony and elder had twisted around each other, forming a black and brownish-red spiral.

“Merlin’s beard,” Ollivander breathed as he reached out with a slightly shaking hand and tried to take the wand from Celeste.

"Ouch!" He withdrew his hand as if burnt, and cast a fearful, accusatory glance at Celeste. “Well, I’ll be. As if it were a laurel wand.” He clutched his injured hand and looked to Dumbledore. "Did you see that, Dumbledore? It shocked me."

Dumbledore walked the last few steps up to Celeste and smiled gently, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half moon glasses.

"Might I examine that extraordinary wand?” Dumbledore asked, holding out his hand.

Celeste hesitated, but looking into those kind eyes, she knew she could trust him. She placed the wand in his hand.

"Remarkable. It looks like the cores have fused, Garrick." Dumbledore turned the wand over in his hand, and Ollivander peered at it without touching it.

"Indeed. Well, what shall we do?" Ollivander asked.

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, I've never before sent a wand of this caliber into the world. Each of the two wands was a masterpiece, at the very threshold of my not-so-minute capabilities as a wandcrafter. But together? Together they exceed anything I've ever heard of, except of course, the wand of destiny. Perhaps it would be best to keep this wand and study it." Ollivander’s fingers twitched.

"And with what wand would you send young Celeste to Hogwarts?" Dumbledore inquired innocently.

"Ahhh, perhaps I can craft a custom wand for her. Yes, yes. I would only need a few weeks."

"And how do you think this wand would react? Do you think it would take well to your tests?" Dumbledore paused to let that sink in. "Or, do you think that perhaps the wand might best display its true potential when partnered with the witch of its choosing?"

"Well, of course, what I mean is ..." Mr. Ollivander stuttered as Dumbledore raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Oh, all right. Fine. But can you honestly tell me that you have no reservations about sending that wand out into the world?"

“The wand is but an instrument. In the right hands, it could do a great deal of good.” Dumbledore turned to face Celeste. "If you don’t mind me asking you a personal question, Celeste, what are you afraid of?"

"Umm, lots of things."

Dumbledore smiled. "How about right now?"

"I'm afraid,” Celeste dropped her eyes and fidgeted with her toes. “I’m afraid that I'm such a bad witch, that I need two wands to be able to do what anyone else can do with one." Celeste answered quietly. Dumbledore and Ollivander blinked.

"Child," Ollivander said pedantically. “It is very rare that a wand of of extraordinary potential will chose a standard witch or wizard. Generally, the more powerful a witch or wizard is, the more powerful the wand must be.”

Celeste looked from Mr. Ollivander to Dumbledore. After a small pause, she nodded.

"Celeste, I'm going to give this wand back to you, but I want you to understand something. Fear of failure has led more than one wizard down the wrong path. Failure is simply life's way of teaching you a lesson. If you don't learn from those lesson, then you have truly failed."

Celeste nodded again. "Yes, sir."

“Shouldn’t we do at least a few basic tests while we still have the chance?” Mr. Ollivander asked hopefully.

“Perhaps you’re right, Garrick. Perhaps we should run a test,” Dumbledore mused as he turned the wand over in his hand. “Let me see, what else is left on your list of school supplies, Celeste?”

“Umm, not much.” Celeste dug in her pocket and examined a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

“What are you missing?”

“Umm, a wand.” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her. “And my books. And a pet, maybe.”

“Hmmm, an animal. No, I think not. Books aren’t quite right either. Pity that you already have your robes and hat.” Dumbledore mumbled.

“Yes, sir.” Celeste answered even though she knew he wasn’t asking her.

“And a trunk?”

“A ... a trunk? That’s not on the list.” Celeste turned the list over as if expecting it to be written on the back.

“No, it wouldn’t be. But how were you planning on bringing all of your belongings to school?”

“Umm, I’m not sure. How do most people bring their stuff to school?”

“In a trunk. Now I want you to picture a trunk as clearly as possible. What type of wood is it made of? What color is it? Does it have any designs?”

“Okay,” Celeste began.

“Don’t tell me anything.” Dumbledore turned his back to her. “Do you see your trunk clearly in your head?”

“Yes.”

Dumbledore waved the wand and a trunk materialized in front of him. He stepped to the side as it finished spinning gently to the floor.

“Is this your trunk?” The trunk in question seemed rather plain, a slightly faded grey Ebony wood box with gently curved edges.

“Yes, sir. Exactly as I imagined it. Except ...”

“Except what?”

“Well, I wanted a small decoration around the rim of the lid, and I thought Celtic knots would be cool. But in my head they weren’t moving like this.” The carved knots slid between each other, forming new knots and retying themselves in a never-ending coil. Celeste reached out and felt the carvings flow and change underneath the tips of her fingers.

“In your head they were stationary?”

“No, I guess not. I just thought ‘Celtic knots around the lid.’ I didn’t really specify stationary or moving. I guess I didn’t really visualize them.”

“I see. Well, the wand took liberties with that.” Dumbledore smiled slightly. “And the wood? You chose ebony?”

“Yes, sir. Because I liked the ebony wand better. But I didn’t want the trunk to be too dark, so I thought of a faded grey color like this.”

“Do you like it?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, sir. Very much.”

“Tell me, Celeste. Where are the handles?”

“Oh! I, umm, I’ve never had a trunk before. I guess I didn’t think of handles.”

“Shall I add some?” Dumbledore asked with a smile.

“Yes, please.”

Dumbledore waved the wand again, and two wooden handles appeared at the ends of the trunk.

“It will also need to bear your name.” Dumbledore pointed the wand at the trunk, carving Celeste MacFusty across the bottom right side of the front of the trunk. Then he stepped back and waited. Celeste looked at him, expectantly. “Well, are you going to open it?”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Celeste kneeled down and opened the trunk. The inside was just as unremarkable as the outside.

“No velvet lining?” Dumbledore asked.

“No. I wanted it plain. But ... can I see ...” Celeste looked around the room. “Mr. Ollivander, sir. Can I borrow this?” Celeste held up a small ladder, clearly too big to fit inside the trunk.

“Er, of course.” Ollivander gestured his consent with his hands.

Celeste carried it to the trunk and placed it inside easily. Then she grabbed her cauldron and other belongings that were piled neatly next to the door. Those followed the ladder, the trunk obligingly stretching its interior to fit everything snugly.

“So, that part worked.” Celeste grinned at Dumbledore.

“You intended to place an extension charm on the trunk?” Dumbledore asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not sure what type of charm that is, but I thought it would be useful if I could fit anything inside it.”

“Well, it looks like you have an intuition for magic. I’m sure that you will do great things with this wand.”

Dumbledore waited while Celeste returned the ladder with a thank you to Ollivander, then he handed her the wand with a small smile.

“How much do I owe you sir?” Celeste asked Ollivander.

“Fifteen Galleons,” Ollivander replied without blinking.

“Fif-fifteen?” Celeste felt her heart drop. She reached inside the small pouch Dumbledore had given her. Five galleon and seven silver sickles were hidden amongst a handful of knuts.

“Isn’t fifteen rather high for a wand?” Dumbledore asked Ollivander through narrowed eyes.

“Well, Dumbledore, you must take into account that she’s purchasing two of my wands, you know. Two of my finest wands.”

“I ... I only have...” Celeste dumped the entire contents of her bag on counter and started counting. “But, but I could return the cauldron, and then I could give you seven more. I bought it second hand, you see. That’s still only twelve galleons, though. And I couldn’t get any books ...” Celeste drifted off.

“I will pay for the wand,” Dumbledore offered.

“Oh, sir. Thank you very much, but I really couldn’t. I ... I could use the money my father left me, and maybe pay him back next year.”

“Celeste, if you don’t want to use your father’s money, then don’t use it. I will purchase your wand for you.”

“Dumbledore, you know about the contract?” Ollivander asked cautiously.

“I am aware.”

“What contract?” Celeste asked.

“When a witch or wizard gifts a wand to another witch or wizard, they are in some sense taking responsibility for the one who receives the wand. It’s a contract not often heard of because it is most common for parents to buy their children’s first wand, and as you know, parents obviously take responsibility for their children.” Dumbledore explained.

“I ... I don’t want to put you to any trouble, sir.” Celeste said.

“Then please take care to use that wand responsibly,” Dumbledore replied. He pulled out fifteen large gold coins out of a small pocket in his robes, and placed them on Ollivander’s counter.

“Thank you,” Celeste said with a grateful smile, as she tucked her new wand into her pocket.

“Now then, I fancy a bit of stargazy pie,” Dumbledore said as he exited the shop.

Celeste stepped out of the shop and into a large and solid brown wall that was walking by. She felt herself fall backwards, but hands the size of trash bin lids appeared from above and steadied her. Celeste’s gaze followed the huge hands up to tree trunk sized arms and finally up to a bushy face with kind beetle black eyes. She realized that the wall was actually an enormous man with wild black hair and a beard to match.

“Careful there,” he said. “Dumbledore, sir!” He snapped to attention as he caught sight of her companion.

“Ahh, Hagrid, care to join us for a bite at the Leaky Cauldron?” Dumbledore asked kindly.

“Cert’nly, sir. I’m right happy to run into ye like this. Had ter ask ye abou’ somethin’ … now what was it?“

“Umm, I’m just going to go buy my books and maybe a pet, and then I’ll meet you two there,” Celeste mumbled. Dumbledore nodded to her and he and Hagrid began walking back down Diagon alley, Hagrid chatting away happily.

In Flourish and Botts, Celeste found all of her listed school books for a reduced price in the used section. She browsed around a bit and found several other books that she wanted, but decided to wait to check how much a pet cost first.

But fifteen minutes later a harassed store owner shooed her out of Eyelops Owl Emporium. From the moment she entered, the owls went mad, hooting and shying away from her. Even after she left, she could still hear wings beating at the cages. She tried again at the Magical Menagerie, where she found that several cats could tolerate her well enough, but each cat was at least nine galleons.

So she returned to Flourish and Botts, and bought a use copy of Hogwarts A History and after some debate, Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland as well, because it had an entire chapter dedicated to Morag. She didn’t know anything about her father or Morag and she didn’t want to go to Hogwarts unprepared to answer any awkward questions. Then she found her way back to the Leaky Cauldron where Dumbledore had finished his pie and ordered a plate for her.

After the surprisingly delicious meal she said goodbye to Dumbledore and, Tom, the barman who was also the landlord and innkeeper, took her upstairs and showed her into a light comfortable apartment that seemed completely at odds with the dark and shabby decor below.

Tom had brought her luggage upstairs while she was shopping. She stowed her new trunk in a corner of her room and laid down on her bed with a sigh, but it was a long time before she finally fell asleep. Her mind was racing with all the new information, and a part of her was afraid that if she went to sleep, she would wake up again tomorrow to find that today had only been a dream.


	3. Hogwarts

Her hotel room at the Leaky Cauldron wouldn’t have lived up to her mother’s rigid expectations for cleanliness, but Celeste enjoyed every moment of her stay. She wandered around Diagon Alley, ate heartily at the hotel, and even tried a few sweets from Honeydukes. 

When September first came, Celeste packed her few but precious belongings into her trunk, except for a bit of muggle money her mother had given her and her Hogwarts Express train ticket, both of which she shoved in her pockets. Dumbledore had explained exactly how to find platform 9 3/4 and though he offered to send someone to help her get onto the train, she refused. She didn’t want to cause any more work for him, and she was certain that she could do it herself.

And so at 10:30, she began leaning systematically against the barriers between platforms 9 and 10 at the Kings Cross station, until one of them gave way, and she slid into a hidden platform where a scarlet steam engine stood puffing away. Thick white smoke floated over students boarding the train or saying goodbye to their families.

She grinned broadly and pulled her trunk along behind her down the platform, pausing occasionally to avoid bumping into people, or tripping over cats. The whistle sounded and she managed to singlehandedly haul her trunk up behind her just before the train began to move. She started down the corridor, looking for a free traveling car, passing several that were full of students chatting and sharing stories about their summers.

She peeked into another car, and paused. On the other side of the glass were three boys who seemed to be only slightly older than her. Two were red headed and clearly identical twins, and the third a dark boy with dreadlocks. They were playing a game of cards that had just exploded. Two of the boys were laughing and the third boy, one of the twins, was sucking on a burnt thumb, and seemed to be trying to hold in his laughter in an attempt to maintain his dignity.

“Hi there. Can I play?” Celeste asked as she pulled open the door.

“Sure, take a seat,” said one of the red haired boys, smiling kindly at Celeste. 

Celeste pulled her trunk in and heaved it over her head, then she carefully climbed up on the empty seat and tried to stow it in the rack overhead. The dreadlocked boy jumped up and helped her guide it onto the rack.

“You’re a lot stronger than you look,” he said with a grin. “First year?”

“Yep. My name’s Celeste.” She held out her hand.

“Lee Jordan, second year.” Lee shook her hand. “This is Fred, that’s George. They’re both Weasley’s.”

“Nice to meet you,” Celeste smiled.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Fred asked. He took his burnt thumb out of his mouth.

“Judging from my clothes, or my accent?” Celeste quipped.

“Both,” George replied, as if responding to questions directed to his brother was the most natural thing in the world.

“Nope. I’m from New York.”

“Blimey. Why didn’t you go to an American school?” George asked.

“Apparently my dad wanted me enrolled here. He went to Hogwarts, himself.” Celeste settled down onto her seat and pulled her legs underneath her. “So what’s this game?” she asked with a grin.

“We’re just playing the classical version of exploding snap,” George said casually and he dealt out the cards, including Celeste.

“And how do you play it?”

“You’ve never played exploding snap?” Lee asked.

“Nope. But it sure looks like fun.”

“Hold on. You’ve never played exploding snap? But your father went to Hogwarts? Aren’t you ... weren’t you raised as a witch?” Lee asked.

“Nope.” Celeste smiled, enjoying his confusion. “Isn’t it great? This is all new to me. I’d never even heard of Hogwarts until a few weeks ago. I read a few chapters of Hogwarts, A History, but I still don’t really know much about it. What’s it like?” Celeste picked up her cards and began organizing them, despite having no knowledge of how to play the game.

They spent a pleasant journey up to Hogwarts. The boys explained the rules of exploding snap and described the castle and the four houses to Celeste while they played several games. The trolley lady stopped by and after some deliberation, Celeste allowed Lee to convince her to buy a single chocolate frog and iced pumpkin juice with the last of her wizarding money.

“Gunhilda de Gorsemoor?” Celeste mumbled as she turned the card over in her hand. The frog jumped from her lap onto the floor. Celeste smiled at it and watched it pick its way to George’s feet.

“Nice, that’s a really rare card,” Lee said. “I don’t have her yet. Can I take a look?”

“Hey, I’ve finally managed to escape the prefects. Bunch up, Fred. Make room for your big brother.” Another red haired boy squeezed into the compartment. He was clearly related to the Weasley twins, they had the same muscular build, but he looked much older. Celeste smiled as she noticed his torn jeans and tee shirt advertising a rock band called The Curse.

“Oi, Charlie. There’s no room for you up here,” Fred grumbled as his brother kept hitting him playfully.

“No? Alright, then.” Charlie sat on the floor and leaned back against Fred’s legs. “Oh look. A chocolate frog.” Charlie grabbed the frog from the floor by George’s feet and shoved half of it in his mouth.

“Hey, lunkhead. That’s not yours,” George said as Fred kicked and struggled to free his legs. 

“It’s okay, he can have it. I honestly don’t really like chocolate that much anyways,” Celeste said good-naturedly.

“Oh, wash i’ yoursh?” Charlie mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate.

“Yeah, but I got the card, which is supposed to be the important part,” Celeste said with a shrug and a sideways glance at Lee who was now reading the text on the back of the card. “Hi. My name’s Celeste.”

“Charlie,” he swallowed. “Nice to meet you. And thanks for the chocolate.”

“Don’t mention it. What house are you in? I’m trying to decide which one I should choose,” Celeste asked.

“You don’t get to choose,” George said.

“You’re sorted,” Fred added.

“How?” Celeste asked.

“Well, we can’t tell you, or it wouldn’t be a challenge,” Fred said with a smile.

“A challenge? Do we get to fight something?” Celeste asked excitedly. “Or is it like a quiz? I don’t really know anything yet,” she added nervously.

“Like I said, we can’t tell you,” George began.

“But it’s painful,” Fred added.

“And scary,” Lee chimed in.

“I can’t wait!” Celeste pulled her legs under her and positively shivered with excitement. “So, you three are in Gryffindor. Are you too?” she asked Charlie.

“Yep, my whole family has been,” Charlie said, licking his fingers.

“You look pretty old. Is this your last year?”

“Old?” Charlie laughed. “I’m only seventeen!”

“And still an annoying little prat at heart,” Fred said as he shifted uncomfortably and knocked Charlie’s head with his knee.

“So what are you going to do next year?” Celeste asked. She was curious to know what witches and wizards actually did once they graduated.

“Well, I’m hoping to get a spot on the English national quidditch team. If that doesn’t work out, I’m also thinking about training dragons.” Charlie said nonchalantly.

“Dragons?” Celeste asked nervously.

“Yep,” Charlie said happily. “Care of magical creatures is my favorite class, and I’ve always loved dragons.”

Celeste bit the inside of her cheeks and tried to breath steadily, while the topic shifted to which classes the boys were taking and then again to quidditch.

“Not a quidditch fan?” Charlie finally asked Celeste, noticing her silence.

She shook her head. “I don’t like flying on broomsticks,” she said quietly.

“That’s a shame. You look athletic, and you’re small and probably fast. You would’ve made a good seeker. If you get sorted into Gryffindor, the position will be open next year,” Charlie said with a grin.

Celeste just shook her head again.

“Well, I’ll be off then. Nice chatting with you, boys.” Charlie stood up and brushed himself off. “Celeste, come on.” Charlie nodded towards the door. “I’ll get you another chocolate frog.”

“Oh, thanks, but it’s really okay. I meant it when I said that I don’t even really like chocolate. I actually prefer mints.”

“All right, then,” Charlie said and he shut the door behind him. Ten minutes later he opened the door a crack and tossed a small package of peppermint toads into Celeste’s lap. He winked at her and shut the door again without saying anything else.

Many hours later a voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

Fred, George, and Lee gathered up the exploding snap deck with a little difficulty. The cards seemed to sense that they were being put away, and exploded three times in a row, scattering themselves all over the compartment. Once George managed to force them all back in their box, he slipped them into his trunk and pulled out his robes.

“Best get dressed, Celeste,” Lee said as he pulled off his sweater and threw on his robes.

Celeste pulled on her own robes and shoved her dark hooded sweatshirt back in her trunk. She was pleased to see that she wasn’t the only one wearing second hand robes. Both Fred and George sported clean, yet slightly shabby wizards robes that looked just a touch too long for them.

“It’s so we have room to grow,” Fred said when he saw Celeste staring at his hemline.

“I wish I’d thought of that,” Celeste said with a frown. “I’ll probably have to buy new ones next year.” Then she flushed. “I mean, new used ones.”

George gave her an understanding smile. “Good thing the state of our robes isn’t taken into account during exams. Or the sorting.”

The train slowed to a crawl and finally stopped.

“Well, this is where we part ways,” George placed a friendly hand on Celeste’s shoulder as they jumped off the train.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” called Hagrid from the other end of the platform.

“Remember, when you’re about to be sorted, be brave,” George added.

“And don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt too much!” Fred called as he trotted off with Lee. George lingered just long enough to see Celeste roll her eyes. He gave her a conspiratorial wink and was off. Celeste slowly made her way over to Hagrid.

“Hello Hagrid,” she called from the back of the crowd.

“Eh? Oh, hello Celeste. Doin’ alrigh’?”

“Yep. And you?”

“Jes fine, thanks. Now come on, the lot of you. Follow me.”

Hagrid led them down a steep, dark road lined with dense trees. They reached the edge of a still black lake where dozens of small rowboats were waiting for them. Across the lake, sitting on top of a cliff, was a huge castle with sparkling windows and countless turrets.

“Woooooow,” gawked a tall brunette behind Celeste.

“Right, now. No more than four of you in a boat,” Hagrid shouted.

Celeste followed a pretty blond girl in front of her into a waiting boat, and was followed by the tall brunette and a boy with sandy colored hair.

“Hi, my name’s Vicky Frobisher.” The blond had a friendly smile and warm light brown eyes.

“Isn’t this so exciting! My name is Meredith Shani, but I go by Mer.” The brunette said. 

“I’m Celeste MacFusty. Nice to meet you.” 

The sandy haired boy introduced himself as Edward Skewart.

The boats were now all full and at Hagrid’s command, they sped off across the glassy water. The castle loomed overhead as they drew nearer and no one dared to speak. Except Mer.

“This is so amazing! Watch your head, Cel!” Mer called out as they floated into a small cave cut out in the cliff. They were now underneath the castle. The boats all heaved themselves up onto a pebbly shore and the students climbed out. Mer reached down and picked up a pebble.

“Souvenir,” she grinned at Celeste. Celeste grinned back and grabbed a pebble for herself.

“Which house are you hoping to get sorted into?” Mer asked as they wound their way up a long staircase cut into the rock and exited onto a large lawn.

“Gryffindor. You?”

“Really? Why would you want to be in Gryffindor? I’m hoping for Slytherin!”

“But Slytherin has a reputation for producing dark wizards,” Eddie sneered at Mer as if she had said she enjoyed eating pickled slugs.

“Slytherin produces great wizards. What they chose to do with their power is on them.” Mer shrugged. “But, I want to be Minister of Magic someday, and most of the M.O.M.’s graduated from Slytherin.”

They had now reached a large pair of double doors at the front of the castle. Hagrid double checked that everyone was there and then pounded loudly on the brass knocker.

An elderly witch with a tight bun opened the door almost immediately. She reminded Celeste forcibly of a very strict teacher who had gotten her expelled from her third grade school.

“Evenin’ Professor McGonagall. Here’re the firs’ years,” Hagrid said with a nod.

“Thank you, Hagrid. First years, please follow me.” Professor McGonagall led them inside to the entrance hall. Celeste mouth fell open as she stared up, past the torches blazing on the stone walls, and sought for a ceiling amidst several winding staircases which all seemed to branch from the large marble staircase in front of them.

Professor McGonagall led them past a large double doorway where the rest of the school could be heard chatting away happily and into a small chamber. The first years crowded together excitedly.

Professor McGonagall welcomed them to Hogwarts and told them to remain in the chamber until the sorting ceremony was ready to begin. Several students shifted nervously, but if Professor McGonagall noticed she gave no sign of it. She continued explaining what the school houses were, and how the house cup was awarded to the house with the most points at the end of the year. Then she asked them to wait quietly until she returned. 

She had obviously just gone to check if the rest of the students were seated, because she returned very quickly and led them back to the entrance hall and in through the double doors leading to the Great Hall. The entrance hall impressed Celeste, but the Great hall left her breathless.

Hundreds of candles floated midair, illuminating four long wooden tables where the rest of the school sat. High above, the ceiling opened directly to the night sky, and the stars twinkled brightly against the inky backdrop.

Celeste caught sight of Fred and George at the table on the far left. They winked at her, and she grinned back. Farther down the table, Charlie Weasley sat surrounded by several very pretty girls. He glanced up as the first years filed past, and gave a small crooked smile to Celeste. Celeste responded by making a funny face and rubbing her belly. The peppermint toad Charlie had given her was still hopping away feebly in her stomach. Charlie seemed to understand and his crooked smile broke into an authentic grin.

The first years came to a halt at the top of the hall, right below the teacher’s table. Professor McGonagall set a four-legged stool directly in front of them, and on this stool she placed a large rather shabby looking hat. She turned and looked expectantly at the pointed hat. The rest of the school was also staring at it attentively.

Celeste turned to Meredith, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Suddenly, a rip near the brim opened up and the hat launched into a somber song:

And so begins a brand new year,  
New students I must sort.  
Come try me on and I’ll tell you  
Your house within Hogwarts

Perhaps you’ll go to Gryffindor  
The gallant and the just  
One thing is sure, brave Gryffindors  
Are worthy of our trust

Though if your heart is trustworthy  
Hardworking, fair, and kind  
You’ll find dear friends in Hufflepuff  
Who are of a like mind;

Or if that mind is scholarly  
Or simply full of wit  
Then with the brains in Ravenclaw  
You’ll surely find you fit;

But if you have high ambitions  
And want a house wherein  
You can reach your full potential  
Your house is Slytherin;

Thus ends my yearly song to you  
Now come and try me on  
I’ll look inside of each of you  
And say where you belong!

The school burst into applause. Celeste clapped along with the rest of the first years in a rather subdued manner. Everyone was nervous about being sorted, but from what the hat said, it sounded like all they would have to do is put it on.

Professor McGonagall unrolled a long roll of parchment.

“Antoja, Alejandro!” she called. A skinny boy detached himself from the bottom half of the line and walked forward. He sat on the stool and McGonagall placed the sorting hat on his head.

“Hufflepuff!” the hat shouted. The table on the far right cheered and greeted Alejandro as he slid into his seat.

“Belby, Marcus!” Marcus soon joined the cheering crowd at the Ravenclaw table.

Cho Chang went to Ravenclaw too. Derek Dunburg became the first Slytherin. Several students later, Celeste recognized a familiar name.

“Frobisher, Victoria!”

Vicky sat primly on the stool, her back perfectly straight. The hat took a while longer to answer.

“Gryffindor!” The Weasley twins led their table in a round of raucous applause for Vicky, the first to be sorted into Gryffindor. The sorting continued, but Celeste noticed that there seemed to be very few students sorted into Gryffindor.

“MacFusty, Celeste!” 

Celeste walked confidently up to the hat. The last thing she saw before Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head was Charlie Weasley giving her a surprised look.

Then the hat fell over her eyes, and she was left looking at the black interior.

Well? What’s it going to be? she thought.

“Good question,” a small voice said in her ear. “You’re clearly not lacking courage, but you’re also quite clever, resourceful, and kind. You seem to take pride in the best qualities of each of the houses. And let me see, and what else is that inside of you?”

It’s nothing, Celeste thought quickly.

“No? Well, the school motto is ‘never tickle a sleeping dragon,’” replied the hat with a chuckle. “So, where shall we place you?”

Celeste thought of her ride up to school on the Hogwarts express. I think I’d like Gryffindor.

“Yes, Gryffindor would be a good fit for you. But don’t chose it just for the friends. If you want to harness and direct those special powers of yours, I’d go with Slytherin. Though really, you have a scientific mind. It would do so well in Ravenclaw.”

Well, what about Hufflepuff? Celeste thought sarcastically. It’s a shame you can’t sort me into all the houses.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it? You do have the heart for Hufflepuff, and you would definitely bring some attention to the house that’s too often overlooked.”

No, honestly, I think I prefer Gryffindor, Celeste thought as she inwardly sighed. She couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that the sorting wasn’t the painful and exciting test Fred and George had promised.

“Right you are. That’s clearly the heart of a GRYFFINDOR!” The sorting hat shouted the last word to the Great Hall. Celeste handed the hat to Professor McGonagall with a grin and scooted down the hall to join Fred and George at their table. They clapped her on the back and she shoved Fred.

“That was so painful!” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, it is quite painful to watch the lot of you up there, all timid and nervous,” Fred replied.

Celeste started a chain reaction. Ariadna Matlick, Cormac McLaggen, Melody Merrington, and Tomas Newton all became Gryffindors. Orion Oswestry broke the streak and became a Ravenclaw.

“Shani, Meredith!”

Celeste held her breath and crossed her fingers, but to no avail.

“Slytherin!” shouted the hat almost immediately. Meredith beamed as she joined the rest of the Slytherin first years.

Eddie Skewart became a Gryffindor, but luckily he sat with Cormac McLaggen at the top of the table, far away from Celeste, who hadn’t forgotten the look he’d given to Mer.

Crystal Theold was the last Gryffindor to be sorted, and shortly afterwards the last student remaining, William Wood, took his spot at the Hufflepuff table.

“Wonderful!” Albus Dumbledore said as he stood up at the middle of the teacher’s table. “Now that we are all sorted, I should give a speech, but I believe there is a more pressing matter we must attend to first.”

Dumbledore spread his hands out wide, as if gesturing to the entire hall. The golden platters on the tables in front of them filled suddenly with delicious foods, and Celeste immediately grabbed as much as she could fit onto her plate. For the next several minutes, the Great Hall echoed with the muffled chatter of full mouths.

“Why didn’t you say you were a MacFusty?” asked a deep voice behind her. Celeste turned around and saw Charlie Weasley.

“Umm, I didn’t think it mattered,” she said through a mouthful of honey mustard chicken.

“Excuse me, Lee,” Charlie slipped a leg in between Lee and Celeste, causing several Gryffindors to shuffle over to make room. He sat down sideways on the long wooden bench and grabbed a drumstick off of Celeste’s plate.

“Well, you heard me say that I was considering studying dragons. That would have been a good time to mention that you’re related to the most famous family of Dragonologists in Britain.” Charlie bit off half of the meat in one bite.

“Oh? Are they?” Celeste said nonchalantly. She reached over and tried to take the chicken back. Charlie didn’t let go, so she pulled it close enough to grab a bite and chewed pointedly. He raised an eyebrow at her, but continued, undeterred. 

“So, can you introduce me to Cináed? Or better yet, Duncan? I’ve always wanted to meet him. I’d love to hear how he finally killed Morag.”

Celeste fought to keep her face neutral. “I don’t know any of the MacFusty’s. Duncan is my father, but he left when I was very young, and I don’t think I ever met any of his relatives.”

“Oh,” Charlie’s face fell with disappointment and pity. Celeste looked away. Charlie stood up, grabbed two more drumsticks and tossed one onto her plate. “Sorry I brought it up, then. Enjoy the feast. And congratulations on making Gryffindor.”

Celeste sighed, but it was impossible to brood. In less than two minutes she was chatting happily with Fred, George, and Lee, and after some time she noticed that the trays would refill magically if they became empty, so she stopped hoarding the food on her plate, and began eating a bit more calmly.


	4. Explosion

Celeste glanced at her course schedule the next morning as she chewed some eggs and toast. She had stayed up most of the night with Fred, George, and Lee celebrating her first night in Gryffindor tower. Despite not getting nearly enough rest, she woke up unusually early, too excited to sleep.

“We’ve got charms first,” she told Ariadna and Vicky, who were sitting across the table from her. “With the Hufflepuffs. Then double potions with the Slytherins. And this afternoon is Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws.”

“Mmm,” Ariadna mumbled. She was watching Vicky pour tea into her mug. Vicky looked up and down the table to make sure no one was watching her, and tapped it with her wand. Then she casually took a long sip and smacked her lips together. The strong smell of coffee met Celeste’s nose.

“Did you just turn that tea into coffee?” Ariadna asked.

“Yes, I’m practicing,” Vicky said matter of factly. “My older sister taught me a few tricks. It’s not that hard really, but I can’t make it work with anything except strong black tea.”

“That’s so cool. Can I have some?” Celeste asked with a grin.

“Here, I’ll make you a cup.” Vicky poured a cup of black tea for Celeste and tapped it with her wand. “Capulus.” She pushed a steaming mug of coffee over to Celeste. It was strong and black, just like the tea, but it was definitely coffee.

Fred and George plopped down on either side of Celeste. They both looked a little worse for the wear.

“Long night?” Ariadna asked.

“So much to celebrate,” Fred yawned.

“So few hours to sleep.” George rubbed his eyes. Celeste pushed her coffee into George’s elbow and nodded to it.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he took a long sip. “Mmm, the coffee tastes much better than it did last year.” Vicky beamed at him.

* * * * *

The first week of classes went by quickly. Celeste learned that she really enjoyed Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, but struggled with Potions, Herbology, and Astronomy.

She was very excited for her first History of Magic class, and gave an excited laugh when Professor Binns entered the classroom through the blackboard.

“How cool! A ghost professor! Teaching history, too! I wonder how much of it he actually lived through,” she whispered excitedly to Vicky and Ariadna.

But Professor Binns never even looked at the students. He began lecturing in a very dull sort of voice and didn’t stop until the bell rang. Then he simply scrawled a few lines on the chalkboard telling the first years to read the first two chapters of their textbook and drifted right back through the board.

“Well, that sucked,” Celeste said. Vicky nodded and yawned. Ariadna started awake as everyone stood up and chairs scraped against the floor.

Transfiguration was much more Celeste’s style. After learning a whole new alphabet and taking complex notes on the Transformation Formula (where Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at Celeste’s calculated wand power, but didn’t correct her) they finally began a practical lesson: transforming a match into a needle.

“You’d think it would be easier than this,” Ariadna complained. “I mean, they’re both the same size. All it needs to do is go silver and pointy.”

“Not at all,” Vicky replied. “You have to transform the wood into metal as well as change the shape and thickness.”

“But it’s not just the wood,” Celeste replied. She picked up her own almost perfect needle and struck it against the side of a matchbox. The eye end of the needle burst into flame, but quickly burnt out without wood to fuel the fire.

“How do we get rid of the phosphorus?” Celeste asked Vicky.

“Excellent question, Celeste. Five points to Gryffindor.” Professor McGonagall strode over from a nearby table. She held up Celeste’s burnt needle for the rest of the class to see. “Most needles that are handed in at the end of the first week are ignitable, and even still, this is quite an accomplishment for a first year. Now can anyone answer Celeste’s question? How do we get rid of the phosphorus?”

The class mumbled and shrugged, but no one raised a hand.

“Do we have to vanish it?” Vicky asked timidly. “Or should we transfigure it into metal too?”

“Either will work, but since the vanishing spell is a fifth year topic, the latter is the preferred method for the time being.” Professor McGonagall then began explaining how to modify their transfiguration formula to take into account an extra element, but it was incredibly complicated. By the end of the lesson, not even Vicky had managed to produce a non-ignitable needle.

* * * * *

Celeste’s second week didn’t go quite so well. She snickered quietly as she read the latest installment of the note she was passing back and forth with Ariadna. They were writing a story explaining how professor Snape’s hair became so greasy. Ariadna had started by explaining that he was dropped in a muddy puddle as a kid and then bathed with cooking oil instead of soap. Celeste expounded on that by introducing a pet slug who had a fondness for sleeping on his head. Ariadna then included parents whose religious sect wouldn’t allow them to use soap.

As thy soul goeth to heaven   
thy corpse shall return to dust and oil.  
We hasten the process by   
refusing to remove our grime and soil.

“And what, may I ask, is so amusing?” Snape’s characteristic drawl asked from the front of the room. Celeste was sitting in her usual spot at the very back corner of the classroom.

“Nothing, sir. It was just a sneeze.” Celeste didn’t even move to hide the note, she played it off as if she were behaving with the utmost propriety. 

“A sneeze?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Yes sir, maybe because it’s a bit dusty down here. Do they clean the dungeons out regularly? They really ought to put a bit more elbow grease into it.”

The class giggled lightly in response, and Ariadna positively choked when Celeste said the word ‘grease.’

“Enough!” Snape bristled at the laughter, and slammed his hand down on his desk. Celeste felt the next two seconds pass by in slow motion. Professor Snape reached in his robe and pulled out his wand, and turned on her with a hard look in his eyes. “Accio paper!”

Celeste felt the force of a spell coming at her, the hatred in Snape’s eyes burning, and she panicked. 

As Snape’s spell hit, an explosion shook the classroom. When the dust settled, Celeste kneeled, naked, on the ground in the center of the blast radius, her torn robes lay scattered nearby. The wall behind her had a huge hole punched through it. There were several large gouges in the stone floor, and the nearby desks had all been thrown forward into the rest of the class. Several students were injured. Some lay on the ground or draped across the desks. Two were unconscious and Ariadna was cradling a broken arm.

Snape stared at Celeste in horror.

“Professor!” Ian Watts shouted seconds later. Snape blinked and looked around. “Professor Snape! We have to get these students to the hospital wing!”

Snape nodded absently and shot a silvery figure from his wand, which went galloping off down the hall. It passed by the newly created hole in the wall, illuminating Celeste briefly.

“Everyone, to the hospital wing. Except you, miss MacFusty.” Professor Snape spoke in a tense quick voice, very unlike his normal drawl.

Celeste looked up as Ian approached cautiously. He slowly pulled off his robes and offered them to her. Ian was wearing a sweater and pants underneath. Celeste shivered visibly and took the robes timidly out of Ian’s shaking hands. Once covered, Celeste stood up and looked Snape straight in the eye.

As their dark eyes met, they exchanged emotions. Fear, confusion, suspicion, horror. And blame.

At this point, several older students from a nearby class had heard the explosion and were peering in through the hole in the wall. Charlie Weasley pushed through the crowd to poke his head in. He took in the chaos briefly, then jumped into action, herding injured first years through the door. Charlie frowned at the gouges on the floor, and glanced up at the ceiling.

Celeste briefly toyed with the idea of escaping amidst all the confusion, but quickly discarded it. They would find her soon enough. She didn’t move as everyone else poured out of the room. Everyone except Snape, who stayed watching her, his wand in his hand. A few minutes later, Professor Dumbledore entered.

He looked around the ruined classroom and then spoke first to Celeste.

“Are you alright? Were you hurt?”

“I’m not hurt, sir. But some of the other students were.”

“What happened?”

Celeste remained silent, so Snape recounted the story to Dumbledore. She said nothing in her defense either to the note passing, the disruption of the class, or even to Snape’s accusation that she exploded.

“Exploded?” Dumbledore asked with a raised eyebrow.

“One moment she was sitting in her desk, the next she exploded, creating this,” Snape waved his hands at the destroyed classroom.

“Celeste?” Dumbledore said.

“Yes, sir?”

“Is there something you wish to tell me?” Dumbledore asked gently. Celeste hesitated before answering.

“Yes. But can I tell you privately?”

“Of course, you can follow me to my office.”

“Don’t bother,” Snape bit out as he strode towards the door. “You can stay here. I have to check on my students.” His long, slightly uneven footsteps could be heard striding down the hall.

Dumbledore didn’t say anything. He waited patiently as Celeste took several deep breaths.

“He’s telling the truth, sir,” Celeste finally croaked.

“Yes, he usually does.”

“I mean, it was my fault.” When Dumbledore said nothing she continued. “That those students got hurt. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was scared, and I lost control for a second. But only for a second.”

“Control of what?” Dumbledore asked intently.

“I don’t know, myself.”

“And what happens when you lose control of yourself?”

“Normally nothing like this. Please don’t kick me out of school, sir. I won’t let it happen again. I promise.”

“Do you think that that is a promise you can keep?” Dumbledore seemed genuinely concerned.

“I hope so,” Celeste answered in a small voice.

“So do I.”


	5. Classes

For the next several weeks, the only thing anyone at school could talk about was how Celeste had exploded the potions classroom. The truth got lost amid a thousand details (of which a few weren’t blatant lies) spread around mostly by people who weren’t present at the time of the event.

A few people congratulated her; Fred, George, and Lee in particular. They seemed to think that it was a great prank, and were debating how best to top it. Others, most notably the Slytherin first years who took Potions with the Gryffindors, were actively avoiding Celeste, rushing past her in the halls and staying as far away from her in class as possible. They were clearly afraid of a repeat explosion.

Celeste couldn’t decide what was worse: those who treated her as if she’d pulled off the coolest prank ever, or those who gave her scared looks and plenty of room in the school corridors. She reacted by throwing herself into her studies. She was keen to show Professor Dumbledore that he hadn’t made a mistake in allowing her to stay. 

Two days after the explosion, she stopped by Professor McGonagall’s office in the first floor corridor to the right of the staircase that lead to the Serpentine Corridor.

“Professor?” Celeste asked timidly as she knocked on the open door. Professor McGonagall looked up from her desk.

“Yes, Celeste?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

“Of course. Please, come in.” McGonagall set aside the newest edition of Transfiguration Today. “What is on your mind?”

“Well, it’s about the matches. I think I’ve figured out a way to completely transfigure it into a needle.”

“Oh?” Professor McGonagall was clearly not expecting that answer. “You mean, besides the way I explained in class?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, please. Do show me.” Professor McGonagall rummaged in her desk a moment and then placed a single match in front of Celeste.

Celeste took a deep breath and tapped it once with her wand. The phosphorus head seemed to blend into the wood. She tapped it again and the whole match grew thinner and pointy at one end. The end where the phosphorus had been grew a small hole for the thread to pass through.

“I see,” Professor McGonagall said as she raised the match to her eye.

“I tried the way you said, professor, to transfigure both materials at once but it was so complicated, I couldn’t manage. Then I tried to turn the phosphorus into metal first, but once I transfigured the rest of the match, the phosphorous end was always much thicker than the rest. Then I tried turning the wood into the needle first and then transforming the phosphorus into metal afterwards, but it was hard to distinguish where the phosphorus was because the needle had somehow absorbed some of it during the transfiguration.”

“Yes, that does happen,” Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows in a slightly surprised expression.

“So, I figured out that the easiest thing to do was to transfigure the phosphorus into wood and then transfigure all of the wood into a needle.”

“Well, you have certainly solved the problem. And I can see that you put a great deal of thought into this. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Thank you. And I have a question. When I transform the phosphorus into wood, does it absorb some of the wood from the match the same way that the needle absorbs some of the phosphorus if I transfigure the wood first?”

“That’s a complicated question, Celeste, but with a very short answer: yes.”

“Why?”

“Well, there are many theories,” Professor McGonagall began. “Some people claim that two materials blend together during transfiguration simply because they are in close contact with each other.”

“So why doesn’t everything blend together with air when we transfigure it? Wait! Does it?”

“Well,” Professor McGonagall said with a small smile. “We’re not sure. You are asking difficult questions that even the experts in the field don’t agree on. Why don’t you try reading Professor Dumbledore’s personal notes on the topic?”

Professor McGonagall rose and strode to a bookshelf. She traced a few spines before she found the journal she was looking for. She slid a thin brown book from the shelf and placed it reverently in front of Celeste.

“These are Professor Dumbledore’s personal notes?” Celeste asked awed.

“Dealing precisely with the topic of absorption during transfiguration.”

Celeste stood and clutched to notebook to her chest. “Thank you, professor.”

“Yes, well, I look forward to hearing your thoughts on them.”

* * * * *

Professor Snape would not be so easy to win over, but Celeste arrived early at the next Potions lesson determined to try. Instead of taking her place in the back corner, she moved to the very front of the classroom.

“Hi there, Mer. Do you mind if I share your table?” Celeste asked kindly.

“Please do,” Mer replied, moving her school sack off of the stool next to her. “How are you doing?”

“I’m-,” She had been about to say okay, but she really wasn’t. “I’m trying. Thank you for not shunning me like the rest of the Slytherins.” Celeste glanced at the few students who had picked up their cauldrons and moved them to tables farther away from her.

“Whatever,” Meredith snorted and gave the other Slytherins a disdainful look. “So you exploded once. No big deal. Don’t let them get to you, Cel.”

Cel smiled at Meredith but looked away quickly as tears of gratitude welled up in her eyes. She inhaled deeply and set up her cauldron. She glanced at the empty teacher’s desk and then at the door. She had been hoping Professor Snape would be there early too.

But Professor Snape burst into the class a mere minute before it was due to begin and began scrawling furiously on the blackboard. He listed the ingredients and recipe for a Forgetfulness potion.

“That looks complicated,” Cel whispered to Mer as she copied the untidy scrawl down in her notes.

“Let’s see what you can make of this,” Professor Snape drawled. His eyes flickered briefly to Celeste, sitting at the very front of the class, but he passed on without comment.

Celeste poured herself into her work for the next hour and a half. She scribbled notes almost continually during the process, writing down every question and idea that came to her during the class.

Five minutes before the end of the lesson, Professor Snape strolled up and down the aisle.

“I see no one has managed to produce a satisfactory result.” Snape let his eyes rest on Eddie Skewart’s cauldron where a dark purple potion boiled rapidly, splotching the desk, and burning small holes in the surface of the wood.

When the bell rang, Celeste lingered after all the other students had packed their bags.

“Professor. Can I have a word?”

Professor Snape simple nodded curtly and crossed his hands in front of his waist, staring intently at Celeste.

“I ... uh, just wanted to apologize, sir. For last class. I shouldn’t have been passing notes, or disrupting your class, and I promise that it won’t happen again.”

Professor Snape said nothing and Celeste shifted nervously for several seconds under his icy black stare. Finally she seemed to give up on getting a response and pressed her lips into a thin line and shouldered her bag, nodded to Snape, and moved towards the door.

“And the explosion?”

Celeste turned around slowly.

“I will do my best to avoid exploding in class in the future, sir.”

“Are you mocking me, child?” Professor Snape sneered. “I know what I saw.”

“And you’re right. Yes, I exploded.” Celeste lifted her chin. “I’m sorry that it happened, and I will try to not to let it happen again.”

“Students don’t just randomly explode.” Professor Snape’s eyes narrowed at her. “There is something strange about you. And I, personally, am not convinced, as Dumbledore is, that you aren’t a danger to others.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure that Dumbledore is convinced either,” Celeste said before she could stop herself. She shivered as she thought back to the end of her last potions class and the damage she caused.

Professor Snape didn’t respond so she nodded again and hurried to her next class.

Gradually, potions classes became more tolerable. Celeste always sat with Meredith in the very front of class, and since they both worked hard, they were soon producing good results. Mer had a natural talent for potions and Celeste was very dedicated, and studied extra to keep up with her.

A few classes after her talk with Professor Snape, he paused at their desk, glanced at Celeste’s notes, and snorted lightly.

“Professor?” Celeste asked.

“This is an interesting observation,” Professor Snape’s long thin forefinger rested on a side note Celeste had written. “And yes, stirring in a clockwise motion releases the principle magical qualities of a certain ingredient. Stirring counterclockwise restricts those qualities, or in some cases, can release a secondary quality hidden beneath the primary functions of that ingredient.”

Celeste stared up at Professor Snape, then slowly closed her mouth and blinked a few times before saying, “Thank you, sir.”

“But you’re wasting your time if you think that adding the mistletoe berries one at a time would change anything.” Professor Snape tapped sharply at another note on Celeste’s papers and stalked down the aisle.

Mer glanced sideways at Celeste and they smiled.

* * * * *

"Professor Kettleburn, sir. Are you certain about this?" Charlie asked.

"If I had a flubberworm for the number of times I've been asked that I'd have, well, far too many flubberworms. Much better to have had a galleon instead of a flubberworm.” Professor Kettleburn laughed and wiped a tear of mirth from his eye with an enchanted wooden hand which magically produced a tissue as he raised it to his face.

"Right professor. But the forbidden forest. Alone?"

"Yes, well, catching a unicorn is likely to come up in your N.E.W.T.’s and if you want to practice then you'll need to be stealthy, which is hard to do in a large group."

"Large? There's only five of us!" Nymphadora Tonks exclaimed.

"And if you had done your homework, and researched how to capture a unicorn you would know, miss Tonks, that unicorns don’t trust groups or herds. You must work alone. So in you go, and split up. There’s nothing in there that a N.E.W.T. student of mine can’t handle, except maybe the acromantulas.”

“Acromantulas?” Tonks whimpered.

“Don’t worry, Tonks. He’s probably just joking. I hope,” Charlie tried for a reassuring tone.

“If you need help, just shoot red stars into the sky and I’ll be there faster than a snidget.” Kettleburn turned Tonks’ shoulders towards the forest. “Right then, off you go!”

The five seventh year Care of Magical Creatures students stepped carefully into the forest.

“We’ve been in here loads of times. We’ll be okay,” said Juno Jefferies, a fellow Hufflepuff. It was unclear to Charlie if Juno was trying to reassure Tonks or herself.

“I can’t believe that we’re already preparing for our N.E.W.T.’s. The year just started.” Tonks moaned.

A mere ten meters into the forest, they lost sight of Professor Kettleburn.

“Alright then, time we split up,” Charlie said. “Good luck everyone. Stay alert.”

The students each went a separate way. Charlie alternated between looking at the ground for tracks and scanning the treeline for a shimmer of white.

As he reached a small clearing about a hundred yards into the forest, he stopped and knelt down. Several large footprints lay sunk deep into the humid earth.

“Emplastrum,” Charlie pointed his wand at a footprint. Thick white plaster filled the nearest footprint and hardened immediately. Charlie pulled the plaster out and inspected it.

Five thin toes spread almost 180 degrees from the center. Each toe was tipped with a large claw.

“A dragon print. What is a dragon doing here in the forrest?” Charlie shot red sparks into the sky, and true to his word, professor Kettleburn apparated on the spot, wand out and ready to fight.

“Wait, I thought you couldn’t apparate in Hogwarts,” Charlie said.

“Had the headmaster lift the ban for the forrest just for our class. I wanted to be able to get to you as quick as possible if there was any trouble. Now then, where’s the trouble?”

“Look, professor.” Charlie held up the plaster mold and then pointed to the ground. “These are dragon footprints, right?”

“Yes, good work, Charlie.” Professor Kettleburn stowed his wand back in his robes and took the plaster from Charlie. He sniffed it and then stalked around the clearing, pausing at a spot just under a tree.

“Well, would you look at this. Looks like the young thing laid down for a kip right here.” Professor Kettleburn pointed to a flattened down section of soft earth. It certainly looked like something large had been laying there.

“How do you know it’s young?” Charlie asked.

“The size of the footprints. Rather unusual behavior, though,” professor Kettleburn tapped his chin.

“Sorry, what’s unusual?”

“Well, perhaps it was just flying through,” professor Kettleburn mumbled. “It’s unusual for a dragon to sleep outside of its lair. Welsh Greens tend to live in family groups, so this must be a young Hebridian Black, but what it’s doing so far south of the isles is anyone’s guess.

“No, wait, it can’t be a Black.” Professor Kettleburn shook his head. “The MacFusy’s would know if one of their dragons had gone rogue. Must be a Green. Perhaps separated from its pride.”

“What should we do, sir?” Charlie asked.

“I’ll take this to the headmaster.” Professor Kettleburn lifted the plaster footprint. “But my guess is that this poor creature has already flown through. Now, don’t worry any more about dragons, and put your head into finding a unicorn.”

With that, professor Kettleburn disapparated, and Charlie, after a self indulgent sigh, went back to tracking the unicorn. However, his mind was so unquiet that he wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t found a trace of the creature by the end of class.


	6. The Great Reveal

When Celeste first arrived at Hogwarts, she snuck into the Forbidden Forest once or twice a week in order to release her pent up magic, which made it easier to control during the day.

After her explosion, she tried to find time to get away every day, but it was tricky to ditch the rest of the Gryffindors. Her usual method was to leave the Great Hall early during dinner and sneak down towards Hagrid’s Hut. Once she was out of sight of the front doors, she would turn towards the forest.

One evening about a month after her explosion, she followed her routine and headed blindly towards the woods, thinking about her latest piece of homework for Charms. She was about to enter the forest when a deep voice called to her.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Celeste froze and looked to her right. Fred and George’s seventh year brother, Charlie Weasley strode over to her from the forest’s edge. They hadn’t talked since the welcoming feast. Charlie was captain of the quidditch team, and a handsome, popular, seventh year boy. Celeste was a small first year girl who had recently exploded her potions classroom.

“Umm ...” Celeste said with a guilty look on her face. Charlie also happened to be a Gryffindor prefect and he could punish her for being out of bounds.

“The forest is dangerous! That’s why it’s forbidden. Honestly, what are you thinking?” Charlie grabbed her upper arm and wheeled her around towards the castle.

“Wait a minute. What are you doing down here?” Celeste countered, wrenching her arm out of his grip. Charlie narrowed his eyes, evaluating her.

“During my last Care of Magical Creatures class, I found strange footprints in the area.”

“Wha-what kind of footprints?” Celeste stammered.

“Dragon prints,” Charlie said darkly. “And if that doesn’t scare you away from the forest, then you should have your head checked.”

Mercifully, Charlie didn’t take any points from Gryffindor, but he did escort her back up to the Gryffindor common room and he stayed there, chatting with the rest of the quidditch team. Celeste caught him looking at her several times and she had the distinct impression that he was watching her, making sure that she didn’t slip back out.

Finally, she gave up and went up to bed early. She slammed the dormitory door in frustration and vented a low growl to the empty room. The empty room. She hesitated for a second, then rushed to throw open the window by her bed. The sky outside was almost black.

Cautiously, she glanced down. A sheer drop along the rough wall of the tower ended in pointed roof of some hall below. Celeste reeled with vertigo and pushed herself away from the windowsill. She took a deep breath and then pulled her robes off.

She undressed completely, grabbed her robes in one hand, and climbed onto the widow ledge. Then before she could change her mind, she leapt as far forward into the black sky as she could.

Her new method of reaching the forest was effective, but dangerous. Anyone could glance out their bedroom window and see her. She began waiting until the early hours of the morning before jumping out her window. By then, the rest of the Gryffindor girls were sound asleep.

* * * * *

One evening in mid November, she sat reading a book with her legs tucked underneath her on a cosy overstuffed chair by the fire of the Gryffindor common room.

The portrait of the fat lady swung open so many times that Celeste had stopped paying attention to it. She didn’t notice the newcomer until he stood hovering over her, waiting patiently for her to look up. His dark red hair hung loose and shaggy around his square freckled face. 

“Charlie?” Celeste asked with polite interest.

“A word, Celeste.” Charlie tilted his head toward an unoccupied corner of the common room. Celeste raised an eyebrow, wondering what Charlie could have to talk to her about, but got up and left her book open facedown on the chair to save her spot.

She led the way to the corner, trying not to feel uncomfortable as Charlie invaded her personal space, herding her instead of following her. She turned around and forced herself to look him in the eye. He was more than a foot taller than her, and he moved so close, that she had to strain her neck. She took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You must be pretty hot stuff for a first year. Everyone’s talking about how you exploded that classroom. And both my little brothers say that they’re practically in love with you,” Charlie said in a low voice.

“Fred and George?” Celeste asked with obvious disbelief.

“I’m not talking about Percy and Ron.” Charlie frowned down at her. “They’re good kids,” he continued. “And I’d hate to see them get hurt, or start fighting with each other. So don’t go playing them off of each other, or toying with them.” 

Charlie gave Celeste a look that made her feel judged and found wanting.

“You self-righteous Gryffindor,” Celeste whispered, her throat tightening, not from tears, but from anger. “Next time, before you go judging someone, make sure that you have your story straight. Fred is halfway in love with Angelina. He says he isn’t, but he is. And George has been spending a lot of time with some Slytherin third year girl, but he also won’t admit that he’s interested. They might say that they’re practically in love with me, but it’s just talk. They think of me like a sister. And they love me like a sister.”

“Hey, I sure hope we’re interrupting something serious.” Fred said casually as he threw an arm around Charlie.

“I’d say so.” George replied as he leaned against the wall close to Celeste. “Everything ok C?”

“Yeah,” both Charlie and Celeste responded at the same time. They hadn’t broken eye contact. Celeste continued to shoot daggers at Charlie and had the satisfaction of seeing his scorn turn to doubt.

“Your brother here just loves you guys a lot and he doesn’t want to see you get hurt. You’re lucky to have him. Excuse me. I need some fresh air.” Celeste dodged George’s arm, shouldered past Fred, and took the steps up to her dorm two at a time.

“What did you do to her?” George turned to Charlie.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen Cellie get upset before.” Fred shrugged. 

“Didn’t you both tell me that you were in love with her?” Charlie asked uncertainly.

“Wait, are you going to try and scare off every girl that we tell you we like?” Fred asked.

“Charlie, we love her. We’re not in love with her. She’s ... she’s like ...” George waved to his brother to finish.

“She’s like Ginny, only less annoying. Funner, and easier to hang out with. She’s like the kind of girl that you would love to be in love with, but you’re not.” 

“Unfortunately,” George added.

“Or not. As much fun as Cellie is, she’s just a kid.” Fred shrugged.

“She’s a year younger than you!” Charlie retorted.

“On paper. And sometimes she acts ten years older, like just now. But most of the time, she’s this fantastic little fireball of fun.” George shrugged.

The tower shook slightly. Just enough to make Charlie shift his feet to keep his balance. A faint but recognizable sound came through the open window. A whooshing of disturbed air.

“Gotta run!” Charlie shouted.

Charlie had been carrying his broomstick around with him all week just for this moment. He summoned it from the corner where he’d left it leaning against the wall, and it met him right by the open window. He grabbed it mid stride and swung on as he leapt out into the night air.

“He really is our coolest brother,” Fred remarked causally as he stared out the open window.

“Agreed. Shall we go try to comfort C?”

“Naw, she’ll get over it. What we really should do is prepare some chocolates for Charlie to give to her as an apology. Now, should they be exploding chocolates? Dirt flavored chocolates? Or chocolates that actually turn to brussels sprouts once they make contact with saliva?”

“Poor girl! If anything they should be chocolates that act in reverse. The person who gives them ought to grow warts or something when the chocolates are eaten.”

“Ooooh, I like it. Charlie with warts. That’ll be a good look on him.”

They kept the discussion going all the way back to their dorm room.

* * * * *

Charlie flew past the top of the tower, scanning the horizon. Several weeks ago, he noticed dragon prints near the forbidden forest. Then he heard a dragon flying by Gryffindor tower a few nights ago. But none of the teachers would believe him. He’d even gone to Dumbledore himself, only to be told that Hogwarts was safely protected from wild dragons.

So Charlie started carrying his broom around with him everywhere. As quidditch captain, it wasn’t so outrageous.

He turned north, searching the night sky for a dark patch. If the beast was flying too low, he would miss it. But luck was with him. Ahead, just above the horizon over the forbidden forest, the stars gave way to a flapping blackness. He set off in pursuit.

The dragon turned as he drew near. It roared and spat fire in a circle all around him. Charlie had a shield prepared, but the flames never touched it. There was something off about this dragon. Was it blind? Charlie flew a bit to the left, trying to herd the dragon right. Instead the dragon swerved over him, then beat furiously with its wings, kicking up a huge gust of air and sending him spinning.

By the time he got control of his broom again, the dragon was almost out of sight.

“Damn, that thing is fast,” Charlie muttered. This time he stayed farther back, trying to follow the dragon and see where it nested. But the dragon knew it was being followed. It soared ahead in a burst of speed and then performed what were very clearly evasive maneuvers, the likes of which Charlie had never seen.

The dragon lead him on this chase for several minutes, until they were well north of Hogwarts. It never dared to attack him; it only tried to escape.

“I’m sorry, little guy,” Charlie muttered as he pulled out his wand. “But I can’t have you roaming around a school where you could hurt a kid.”

The dragon roared at the sight of the wand and dove towards the ground looking for cover in the trees. Charlie’s spell caught it in the left wing and he heard it crash through the branches and hit the earth.

The spell was one of Charlie’s own invention. It froze the membrane of the wing, making it so that the dragon couldn’t flex or flap that wing. Dragon hide was incredibly protective, but the thin membrane of the wings was a weak spot.

The spell only froze the wing, but the dragon would still be able to breath fire, so Charlie landed well away from the crash site, knowing that a hurt dragon was a dangerous dragon. Often a dragon taken down from the sky like this would panic and set everything ablaze in a large radius. 

“You are a strange one, aren’t you?” Charlie whispered. “No flames. No struggling. What’s your game?”

He stepped carefully through the undergrowth, and peeked through the trees. There, in the middle of a long gouge cut in the earth by the force of the dragon’s fall, lay something small, dark, and still. Too small. Too still.

Charlie felt his heart stop and climb forcefully up his throat, choking him.

It was a human. A shapeshifter? An Animagus? Could animagi even become dragons?

But didn’t animagi shape shift fully clothed? This tiny human lay there naked. And unmoving.

Charlie dropped his wand as he rushed over and knelt down. The ground was cold and humid, like freshly plowed earth. He grabbed a small dark shoulder and knew what face he would be looking at before he even turned her over.

Celeste.

Unmoving.

But breathing. She breathed. Charlie felt for a pulse and checked for broken bones. He had five brothers, played quidditch, and was training to work with dragons. He’d learned the basics of muggle first aid. Sometimes, you had to act before a healer could get to you.

Nothing was broken, but her pulse was weak. He suddenly remembered that he could do magic and searched frantically for his wand. It hid quite well in the dark forest floor amongst the leaves and twigs.

“Accio wand!” He screamed instinctively. His wand leapt into his hand from ten feet away. He didn’t stop to think about it.

He summoned a blanket. Tucked her in. Removed his homemade frozen-wing curse. Ran the gambit of all his considerable healing knowledge. Then he gathered her in his arms and prepared to apparate. He hadn’t yet passed the exam, but he knew how to do it. He was actually quite talented at apparating. But he couldn’t apparate in Hogwarts. And if he took her anywhere else, he’d have to explain a lot. How she got hurt. Why she didn’t have any clothes.

Then he remembered that he could apparate in Hogsmead and walk to Hogwarts. But once again, he’d have to explain to the school healers how she came to be unconscious.

If they found out that she was the dragon, would they kick her out of school? Shouldn’t she have a say in who they told and when?

Charlie placed Celeste back down carefully and paced for a few minutes. He was a restless person and moving always helped him clear his head. After some time he turned south and summoned something.

Several minutes later a small bag flew up to him. He opened it up and with a flick of his wand, erected a shabby two man tent. It was the present his parents had got him two years ago for making prefect. He loved camping outdoors and this year he had fortunately brought it to Hogwarts, hoping to spend some weekends and vacations camping.

He moved Celeste inside, managed to get some loose pajamas on her, slipped her onto a cot, and draped the blanket over her again.

That done, the hard part began. Waiting. Waiting to see if she would wake up on her own, or if he had to bring her back to school and reveal her secret without her consent. He didn’t wait patiently. He paced back and forth, started a fire, made some cocoa, and finally sat down with his guitar.

Celeste heard the music before she opened her eyes. Soft, relaxing strums. Then tense finger picking which ended on a vibrating note, a pause, and the soft strums resumed. The music felt like a struggle. An internal struggle.

She listened to the melody for a while, and after an unusually long picking interlude, she hummed along when the strumming started up. But then the strumming stopped and she was left humming by herself. She opened her eyes, looking for the music.

And found Charlie staring at her from ten feet away holding a guitar in his lap. The left side of his mouth lifted in a hopeful, crooked, half-smile which did nothing to hide the concern in his eyes.

“Feeling better?”

“Where am I?” Celeste sat up and rubbed her head. She looked around the spacious tent.

“No idea. Are you hungry?” Charlie got up, and placed his guitar on the ground.

“Umm, yes. I’m starving.” Celeste began rubbing her left shoulder and shaking her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

“Does it take a lot out of you?” Charlie asked as he handed her a plate of cheese and nuts and set a cup of lukewarm cocoa on the ground by her cot.

“Does what take a lot out of me?” Celeste asked through a mouthful of walnuts.

“Turning into a dragon.” Charlie sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her.

“So, you’re not the subtle type, are you?” Celeste dropped her eyes and focused on the cheese.

“No. But I don’t think that you are either.”

Celeste looked back up at him and narrowed her eyes.

“So, what do we do now?” he asked her. She shrugged and remained silent.

“Well, as far as I can tell, we have a few options,” Charlie said. “Option one: We don’t tell anyone about this. You and I go our separate ways and I will deny any knowledge of your abilities. I don’t particularly like this option. You look might need help controlling all of this, and I’m quite frankly fascinated.

“Which leads me to option two: we work together. I’m taking NEWT level Care of Magical Creatures this year, with a focus on dragons. We could help each other. You help me learn more about dragons, and I’ll help you understand and control your transformations.

“If we decide to work together, we can either do so secretly or we can tell professor Dumbledore the truth. I’m a big fan of telling the truth.” Charlie watched as Celeste swallowed the sharp cheese and washed it down with the cocoa. He stared at her intently, waiting for her to speak.

“You think we should tell Dumbledore?” She asked. Charlie nodded. Celeste grimaced.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked.

“That they’ll kick me out of school.”

“Where would you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s home?”

“School.” 

“Where was home before school?”

“Somewhere that I don’t want to go back to.”

“Would you be interested in working with dragons?” 

The last question caught her so off guard that she blinked rapidly.

“Umm, I’ve never thought about it.”

“It’s one of the job options I’ve been considering. Your skill set would be invaluable in that line of work. So much so, that you could probably get a job right now, even though you’re underage and don’t have an education. There’s a dragon sanctuary in Wales, somewhere in the mountains, another in Russia, and a very famous one in Romania. You could probably take your pick.”

“Okay. Umm, so that’s an option. Even if it’s just temporary. Maybe I can work and learn at the same time from a private tutor, or study from the textbooks and take my O.W.L.’s in a few years time.”

Charlie gave her his crooked smile again and nodded. “You’re a smart kid. And I’ll do what I can to help you.” He held out his hand. She looked at that outstretched hand.

“You’re ... you’re not afraid of me?” She asked timidly. Charlie withdrew his hand and rested his chin on it. He remained silent for a moment, considering her.

“What is it like, when you change?” he asked.

“A bit painful.”

“I mean, is it more of an animagus transformation or more of a werewolf transformation?”

“I don’t go all Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde, if that’s what you mean. I know who I am, but my instincts change a bit.”

“Dr. Jeckyl?” Charlie gave her a confused look. “That’s a muggle reference right? No matter. How do your instincts change?”

“I feel more emotional. Less rational.”

“But you don’t feel like destroying things?”

“No. Mostly I feel like I need to escape. Like I long for the open sky. For the north.”

“Do you think that you would ever hurt anyone?”

“Not intentionally.”

“Then, no. I don’t think I’m afraid of you.”

“But I ... I’m still ...”

“A dragon?”

“A monster.” The whispered words were almost inaudible.

“You are not a monster.” Charlie moved to sit next to her and wrapped her in a fierce hug. “Dragons are some of the most beautiful creatures in the world. They aren’t monsters. And neither are you.”

Celeste sobbed audibly as she returned the hug.

“Who ever told you that you were a monster?” he asked, once she got herself under control.

“My dad, I think. I don’t really remember it very well. I think that he tried to wipe my memory. But I guess some things just stick.”

“What happened?” Charlie kept hugging her, rubbing her back. Celeste rested her head against his broad chest and shared a secret she’d never told anyone else.

“I think he took me up on his broom, and with the height and flying and all ... I, I changed. I think it might have been the first time. The clearest thing I can remember was the look on his face when I tried to hug him afterwards. He was afraid, and he told me not to touch him because I’m a monster.”

“Asshole.” Charlie growled, making Celeste laugh a little in between sobs. “You know, he was one of my heroes when I was growing up. There was nothing that I wouldn’t have done to meet him. But now, if I ever do, I’ll plant him a facer for you.”

“Thank you, but please don’t. I think, in a weird way, he still cares about me. I mean, he left, and I haven’t seen him since. But he did sign me up for Hogwarts and he tried to pay for it.”

“You’re paying for school yourself?” Charlie asked incredulously.

“No. I’m a charity case. The school is funding me.” Charlie didn’t say anything to that. He just kept hugging her and rubbing her back until the tears stopped and Celeste moved away to sit up.

“So do you forgive me for earlier?” he asked.

“For what? Judging me about Fred and George or shooting me out of the sky?” She quipped as she wiped her face. Charlie barked a quick laugh.

“For both,” he said sincerely.

“For both,” she repeated.


	7. Dumbledore

Less than an hour later, Charlie finished packing up his tent. He rolled it up and shrink it down to the size of a backpack, which he slung over his shoulder.

“You brought a tent to Hogwarts?” Celeste asked curiously. She was dressed in some of Charlie’s spare clothes. Charlie didn’t have extra robes in his tent because he preferred wearing muggle clothes. Worn out jeans and tight black tee shirts were his favorite. He had to shrink the waistband of the pants considerably before they didn’t fall off of Celeste’s thin hips, but she asked him to leave the shirt the way it was. On Charlie it would have hugged his muscular chest, but on Celeste it hung down baggy over her slight frame.

“It was a gift for making Prefect two years ago. I brought it because I thought I’d do some camping over the holidays this year,” Charlie said. “So, have you ever apparated before?”

“Have I ever what?”

“That’s a no.” Charlie pulled out his wand and offered Celeste his left elbow. She lightly put her hand in the crook of his arm.

“Hold on tight. We’re going to squeeze into nothing, then pop back out. You’ll feel like you can’t breathe for a second, but it’s only a second. Don’t be scared. And don’t let go.” Charlie waited until Celeste nodded and tightened her grip. Then he spun on his heel, and Celeste felt herself spin with him, and squeeze into nothingness.

She stood gasping for breath a second later, her heart pounding. She felt dizzy and disoriented, like a kite flapping in a strong breeze, but still tethered to something.

“Cel? Celeste? Are you ok?” Celeste blinked and focused. Charlie put his free hand on hers which was still gripping the crook of his arm. He relaxed visibly. “Whew. I thought you were going to transform again. Or be sick.”

“No,” Celeste shook her head, the motion clearing it a little. “Not sick. But my heart feels like it’s trying to make up for all the missed heartbeats between here and wherever we were.”

“It’ll calm down soon. The first time is tough on people. Fred and George both threw up,” Charlie said with a conspiratorial grin.

“I would’ve loved to see that.” Celeste finally looked around. They were in a small village, but something about was a bit odd. Then it hit her. The people were wearing robes and carrying wands out in the open. Everyone.

“Where are we?” she asked, eyeing a sign with three broomsticks swinging on a slight breeze.

“Hogsmeade. Fancy a butter beer?”

“A what?”

“Come on,” Charlie led her into the dark tavern. “You’re technically not allowed into Hogsmeade until third year, so don’t tell anyone. And you’d probably best go sit down. I’ll get the drinks.”

Celeste found an empty table tucked away in a corner and sat down. Charlie soon strode over with a pair of glasses full of a bubbly amber liquid. He sat down across from Celeste and passed her one of the drinks.

“What shall we toast? To a long and happy friendship?”

“And a few more years without apparating,” Celeste added, taking a swig. The sweet, bubbly liquid seemed to calm her stomach immediately.

“So, there’s something I don’t understand,” Celeste began. “Why did you follow me?”

“I’d seen some footprints near the forest, heard the wooshing of wings at night a couple times. Remember, I’m fairly obsessed with dragons, so I knew what to look for. I thought that there was a young dragon nesting in the forest, or something. So I kept my broom near me all the time, and waited to hear the dragon again, and when I did, I set off in pursuit.”

“What were you planning to do if I was a real dragon? You could have gotten hurt!”

“I did take you down out of the sky, remember?” Charlie said smugly.

“But that’s because I didn’t attack you.” Celeste licked the foam from her top lip.

“I could have handled it,” Charlie shrugged. Celeste just rolled her eyes.

They continued chatting while they finished their butterbeers, then Charlie led Celeste out of the tavern and they began trudging up the long path back to Hogwarts. It was almost midnight when they walked in through the double front doors.

“Well, it’s a bit late to disturb professor Dumbledore,” Charlie whispered as they walked down the silent halls. “Maybe we should just wait until tomorrow.”

“Well, well, well? What do we have here?” Filch cackled happily from behind them. Charlie and Celeste turned around with matching guilty looks on their faces.

“A pair of Gryffindors just back from a romantic stroll through the woods, eh?”

“No,” Charlie said, recovering quickly with complete dignity. “We were just looking for professor Dumbledore. It’s urgent.”

“Urgent, you say?” Filch’s smile wavered.

“Yes,” Charlie stared him in the face, without blinking or smiling. Filch grumbled something unintelligible but led them down the hallway to a large statue of a gargoyle.

“Fizzing Whizzbees,” Filch said to the gargoyle.

“I’d like to try one of those someday,” the gargoyle responded, as it hopped to the side. Behind the statue was a large spiral staircase that led to the top of a small tower, the headmaster’s office.

Filch knocked on the door and waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Several moments went by before Dumbledore appeared, in a nightcap instead of his pointed wizard hat, and tying his night robe tight.

“Yes, Argus?”

“Students caught out of bed, sir.”

“Surely that is a matter to be taken to the head of their house. Preferably in the morning over the breakfast table.” Dumbledore said, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Said they wanted to speak with you, sir. Said it was urgent.” Filch moved to the side, revealing Charlie and Celeste.

“Ahh, right you are Argus. I’ll see them.” Dumbledore suddenly looked more awake. He opened the door wider and ushered the two students in. Filch looked like he wanted to come in as well, but Dumbledore said kindly, “I can take it from here. Perhaps you’d best make sure that no other students are roaming the halls.”

“Right, sir. Of course, sir.” Filch limped back down the spiral staircase as Dumbledore closed the door. He turned and sat down behind his desk, motioning to the two chairs in front of him. Charlie and Celeste sat down too, much less at ease than Dumbledore seemed to be.

“Well? You have urgent business with me?”

“Err, yes sir. I mean, it probably could have waited until morning, but then Filch caught us,” Charlie began.

“Well, we’re all awake, so we might as well address it now.”

“Right, it’s just that ... remember how I thought there was a wild dragon in the forbidden forest?” Charlie began.

“I do,” Dumbledore nodded. “Surely you haven’t actually found a wild dragon in the forest?” His eyes flicked towards Celeste.

“No sir. Not a wild one.”

“I thought not.”

There was a pause. Two sets of blue eyes turned to Celeste, expectantly.

“It’s me,” she gulped. “I’m the dragon.”

Dumbledore nodded and seemed to be suppressing a smile, and Charlie gave him a suspicious look.

“Did you know, sir? That Celeste was a dragon all along?”

“Your father, Duncan MacFusty, contacted me almost a year ago.” Dumbledore said to Celeste. “He was concerned because you were registered at birth to attend Hogwarts and you would soon come of age to begin schooling. He told me about your condition because he feared for the safety of the other students and the teachers.”

Charlie stared at Dumbledore with an open mouth. Celeste pressed her thin lips into a hard line.

“He’s right of course,” Celeste grumbled. “But I wish he’d include me when he makes decisions about my future.”

“You were ten years old, and he is your legal guardian.” Dumbledore said gently.

“Is he still? Even after abandoning me? That can’t be right.”

“There is more to your story than you know, Celeste. More than you remember.” Dumbledore looked at her with something like pity in his eyes.

“Sir, do you know why she becomes a dragon?” Charlie asked.

“I have a suspicion. But knowing why something happens isn’t as important as knowing how to handle it.” Dumbledore paused, looking deeply at Celeste. “How are you handling it?”

“Alright, I guess. I can usually prevent it from happening accidentally.”

“Except when a teacher shoots a spell at you.”

“Yes, sir. I got scared. But I only lost control for a split second. I don’t think anyone even realized what really happened.”

“Professor Snape certainly suspects something,” Dumbledore said quietly.

“Should we tell him? And the other teachers?” Celeste asked.

“I think not,” Dumbledore shook his head. “Unfortunately, not everyone is as open minded as we are, and I believe that others, in particular Professor Snape, might insist on your expulsion if the truth were revealed.”

“He might be right,” mumbled Celeste. Charlie frowned at her.

“He might,” Dumbledore agreed. “Or he might not. Some people, Celeste, refuse to take a chance at happiness,” Dumbledore said. “And they try to keep others from taking those chances as well.”

“Sir,” Charlie said after a small pause. “If you knew that Celeste was a dragon, why did you agree to let her come to Hogwarts.”

“Because she’s not a dragon, Charlie. She is a witch,” Dumbledore said rather sternly. “As such, she deserves the right to an education,” Dumbledore turned and added to Celeste. “I kept a close watch on you, and I will continue to do so. But I believe that if you are in a comfortable environment, safe and happy, then you do not pose a danger to anyone.”

“So I can stay?” Celeste asked with a trembling lip.

“Of course you can,” Dumbledore smiled at her. “I’m very glad that you two chose to confide in me. But I must ask you not to tell anyone else. The fewer people who know this secret, the better.”

“Yes sir,” Charlie and Celeste said together.

“And Charlie, professor Kettleburn tells me that you have a real talent for handling dragons. I don’t suppose that you would be interested in working with Celeste to help her gain a better understanding of her other nature?”

“Yes sir,” Charlie said with a half grin. “In fact, we’d already discussed that idea.”

“Good. Well then, there are a few clearings in the Forbidden forest large enough for small practice, but I would prefer you to hold these sessions outside of Hogwarts grounds. It wouldn’t do for anyone to spot a dragon flitting over the tree line.”

“No, sir.”

“Right then, if that’s all, I’m off to bed. And I advise you two to get some sleep as well.” Dumbledore stood and ushered them kindly to the door. Minutes later, Charlie and Celeste were climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.

“Well, that went rather well,” Charlie said with a grin. Celeste smiled back at him and yawned thickly. He ruffled her hair and shooed her up to the spiral staircase leading to the girls dormitory.

“Goodnight, Fireball. Sleep well.”


	8. Test Time

The next morning Celeste walked quickly to class, looking down at the ground, hardly believing her good luck. Dumbledore had let her stay. She wasn’t getting expelled. He knew. And Charlie knew. And it was okay.

“Hey, Fireball!” Charlie’s voice rang out from right in front of her. Celeste stopped and looked up to find him smiling down at her. He was waiting, along with several other Gryffindor seventh years, outside a closed door, presumably where their next class would take place.

“What? Were you just going to walk right by? Pretend like you don’t know me?” he teased her.

“You look busy,” Celeste nodded to the three girls crowding around him. “I thought I’d leave you to your admirers.” Charlie barked out a laugh. The girls scowled.

“Do you mean to say that you don’t admire me?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Of course I do!” Celeste responded with exaggerated sincerity. Then she grinned mischievously. “But I think you admire me more.” She winked at him and kept walking.

“Maybe I do!” Charlie shouted at her back. Celeste held up two fingers to acknowledge his reply. Charlie shook his head.

“Excuse me,” one of the girls said slowly as she edged closer to Charlie. “Did the captain of our quidditch team really just flirt with a first year?”

“Jealous, Sendra?” Charlie asked as smile slid off his face. His eyes seemed to lose some of their warmth as they turned towards her. The door opened, and several Hufflepuff seventh years filed out.

“Do you want me to be?” Sendra, who was a brunette with clear blue eyes, gave him a suggestive glance, and turned around to enter their next class.

* * * * *

“Bunch up, George,” Charlie stuck his knee in between Celeste and George at the Gryffindor dining table that Friday night. He clearly didn’t fit, but managed to squeeze his little brother over, and snuggled happily into his spot.

“Why don’t you go eat with the quidditch team?” George complained, pulling his plate along with him as he moved over.

“Or the prefects?” Fred added.

“Or the seventh years, or anyone else?” George finished.

“And miss out on my last year to eat dinner with the family?” Charlie slapped George’s back and pinched his shoulder affectionately. George cringed and rubbed his shoulder once Charlie let go.

“Hey, Charlie!” Lee Jordan grinned from his spot next to Fred. “I hear that Grace Harrington’s sick. Laryngitis, right?”

“That’s the word,” Charlie said. “Now where in no-space is my plate?” He stared at the empty table in front of him and raped lightly on the wood with his knuckles. 

“Well, I was thinking of volunteering!” Lee said happily.

“Ah! There it is!” Charlie beamed as a gold plate materialized in front of him, along with silverware and a goblet full of pumpkin juice. He leaned forward and grabbed some rotisserie chicken and baked potatoes.

“So, what do you think?” Lee asked.

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Charlie said as he devoured half a drumstick in one bite. “You’ll make a great commentator, Lee.” Lee beamed happily.

“And you,” Charlie looked sideways at Celeste. “How was your week?”

“Uneventful,” Celeste said airily.

“Oh? Glad to hear it. Because your weekend is going to be very eventful.”

“Really? What do you have planned?”

“Pack a spare change of clothes.”

“What about food?” Celeste was always worried about food.

“I’ll take care of that.”

“I eat a lot.”

“I’ll bring enough to feed a horse.”

“I eat more than that.” Celeste grinned.

“What’s going on?” George asked innocently.

“Dumbledore’s put me in charge of a special class for Celeste. It’s top secret, so we probably shouldn’t say anymore.” Charlie turned back to Celeste. “Meet me in the common room in two hours. And bring whatever you think you might need because we’re not coming back until Sunday night.”

Celeste nodded and kept her attention on her food as Charlie stood up, carrying his plate and moved to go join the rest of the quidditch team. A few minutes later, several team members groaned.

“What do you mean no practice this weekend?” Oliver Wood’s voice trailed down the table.

“Yeah, come on Charlie! The first game of the season is in two weeks against Ravenclaw!”

“Sorry, but something’s come up and I can’t do it. If you want to, you can get together and practice without me. Wood, you’re co-captain now. You know all the drills.” Charlie downed the last of his pumpkin juice and stood up.

“Enjoy your free weekend,” he told the team with a smile as he headed off down to the double doors.

“That sucks,” one of the beaters grumbled to the other.

“I don’t know why we should even bother practicing, if our own captain doesn’t,” the other beater responded.

Two hours later Celeste stood in the common room, her muggle backpack slung over one shoulder. She was dressed in her “comfortable” clothes, meaning she had on the ripped pair of muggle jeans that Charlie had shrunk to fit her, and an old dark grey sweat shirt.

She didn’t have to wait long before the portrait swung open and Charlie waved to her from the entrance. She hurried over and hopped out, landing lithely on her toes. Charlie reached out a hand to help steady her, but finding that she didn’t need it, he moved it back to the enormous and heavy duffle he was carrying.

“What’s that?” Celeste asked.

“Your food.” Charlie winked.

“And you’re sure it’s enough?”

Charlie stopped and looked at her seriously. Celeste laughed and tugged on his arm to get him moving again.

They chatted lightly all the way to a corridor on the third floor where Charlie pulled up next to a statue of a hunchbacked one-eyed old woman. 

“Ready for your first secret passageway?” Charlie asked Celeste. 

“Definitely!” Celeste grinned mischievously as Charlie tapped the hunchback lightly with his wand and muttered “Dissendium.”

The hunchback opened up and Charlie led the way through the opening and down a steep stone slide. Celeste whooped for joy and landed, laughing, in a heap at the bottom of the slide.

“Lumos.” Charlie’s wand lit up. “Enjoy it now,” he said with a smile. “What goes down must come up again. We’ll be climbing two hundred stairs soon.”

They trod off through the narrow earthen passage and eventually reached the steps Charlie promised. Celeste didn’t really mind the climb up. She was too excited, and enjoyed working off her extra energy.

Charlie finally whispered for her to stop and wait, and Celeste took several deep breaths through her nose to slow her heart rate. Charlie raised a trapdoor in the ceiling, and after peering out carefully for a minute, slid the duffel bag out and then climbed through. He glanced around and reached back to offer her a hand up.

Celeste stood up on a dirt floor in what looked like a cellar. She inspected the crates nearest her and grinned.

“A candy store? You snuck us into a candy store? You really get me.”

Charlie laughed. “Sorry to disappoint, but we’re sneaking out right now.” He led her down a passageway, up a few more shallow steps, and stopped at a slanted cellar door.

“Alohamora,” he whispered, and the door swung open, letting them out into an alley behind the dark store. The main road lay only twenty feet away, but it was almost deserted at this time of night. The little foot traffic there was seemed to be centered around the pub farther down the street.

“Isn’t it a little too easy to break in?” Celeste asked. “They must lose half their supply every month.”

“Not many students know about the passageway from Hogwarts. And it’s easy to break out of the store, but getting back in is trickier. ‘Alohamora’ won’t work on that door from this direction.”

“Oh,” Celeste frowned at the door.

“This way,” Charlie led her farther down the alley where they couldn’t be seen by anyone strolling down the main road. He stopped and turned towards her.

“Ready to apparate again?” Charlie held out his left elbow. Celeste sighed and held on tightly as they spun and squeezed into nothing, and popped back out in a deserted field. Celeste took a few deep breaths to stretch out her compressed lungs.

Trees surrounded the field which was at least two square miles, so there was plenty of room to move around. Charlie bent over the duffel and pulled out his tent, which he set up with a tap of his wand.

“So, let’s begin.” Charlie took Celeste’s backpack from her and tossed it gently through the tent’s opening. Then he turned and sized her up.

“You said you retain your human intellect as a dragon, right? That’s the first thing I want to test. Well, sorry, the second. The first thing is if you can transform at will, or if your transformations are always linked to emotion.”

“No, I can transform at will,” Celeste said. “In fact, the more often I transform, the less likely it is that I lose control and transform, umm ... not at will.”

“Involuntarily,” Charlie supplied. “Well, let’s see you transform then. And afterwards I’m going to give you basic commands, and see how well you can understand and follow them.”

“Okay, but I promise you, I’m pretty much completely the same. Umm, can you turn around?”

“Why?”

“So I can undress. If I change with my clothes on, I’ll rip them.”

Charlie frowned. “Actually, can I watch you transform? I promise it’s nothing dirty. I just want to see exactly how it happens, and how it might differ from an animagus transforming.”

Celeste hesitated.

“I’ve been reading up about animagi, you see. And they transform quickly but gradually, their shape shifts into another shape, and they can adapt their clothes and other personal items with them. If I can see how you transform, maybe I can help think of a way for you to keep your clothes. Or at the very least, I want to understand everything I can about this.”

“Okay,” Celeste turned around and took off her sweatshirt and tee shirt first. She didn’t wear a bra; she had no reason to. Charlie’s shrunken pants followed and she finally slid off her tight blue girl-boxers.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around quickly and met Charlie’s eyes, making sure he was looking at her face. Then she let the monster out.

It happened like an explosion. It always felt like that to Celeste. There was this beast inside her that was fighting to get free, and as soon as she relaxed some part of her heart, it sprang forth instantly, as if afraid that she would change her mind.

Charlie wasn’t close enough to get thrown back, but she did displace enough air to send a small gust over him. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open in astonishment that quickly turned into an admiring grin.

“Amazing,” he said quietly as he took a step towards her. Then he paused. “If you can understand me, please lower your head.”

Celeste lowered her head until their eyes were level. Charlie walked up to her with more confidence, and touched her cheek gently, reverently.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

In a heartbeat, Celeste was human again, tears pooling in her eyes. Charlie still held her cheek in his hand, and the echo of his words resonated between them. She turned away from him, away from his touch, and took a deep, choking breath.

“Celeste?” Charlie asked nervously. “I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean-”

“That ... that is the first time anyone has ever called me beautiful. Not even my parents have ... have ever said ...” Celeste shook her head. She turned around and made a conscious effort to hold her chin up.

“I just hoped that the first time would be to me ... not ... to the monster.”

“I-I’m so sorry. I had no-no idea.” Charlie stuttered. “How could you have gone your whole life and never heard-”

“I’m small and dark, and where I come from beautiful means tall and blond. My mother always emphasized my other traits. She told me I was smart, and funny, and talented. She taught me to value those aspects of myself.” Charlie nodded as Celeste bit her lip before continuing.

“But she never told me I was beautiful. Actually, just the opposite. She used to call me her ugly duckling. I think she wanted to prepare me in case kids at school called me ugly, which they did.”

“But you’re not ugly!” Charlie argued, shocked. He examined Celeste more closely. She had long dark hair, and large dark eyes, that were quite attractive when they were twinkling with mischief, as they often were. True, she was small and skinny, but in an athletic way, not in a malnourished way. He shook his head, confused. How could anyone call her ugly.

“That’s nice of you to say,” Celeste began.

“No!” Charlie cut her off. He was almost angry now. “I’m not just saying it. You’re not tall and blond, but you’re a different type of beautiful.

“And even more important than your physical beauty, is your inner beauty,” Charlie said as he stepped right up to her. “You amaze me. I don’t know that much about your story yet, but it sounds like you’ve been through hell, and yet you’re so ... so ... excited about life.”

Celeste looked up at him confused.

“Look at me,” he said. “I’ve had an idyllic life. I have two parents who love each other and love me. I’ve been told over and over again how important I am to them, how happy they are that I’m their son. They cherish me. Just like they cherish my six siblings. My house practically can’t contain all the love that we have for each other. And sure, we don’t have as much money as we would like, but I’ve never lacked for anything.

“Then I came to Hogwarts, where I was a natural at magic and at flying. I never had to study that hard to get good grades. And I’m a fantastic quidditch player. Probably good enough to play professionally.”

Charlie sighed and shook his head.

“I’m not going to lie. You’ve been dealt a shitty hand in life. And I’ve been dealt a great one.

“And yet, I often feel bored with my life. I feel like I need something more exciting. While you, you’re so happy. Every time I see you, you’re smiling, laughing, playing pranks, getting into trouble, enjoying life.

“It puts me to shame. You put me to shame. You are beautiful where it really matters.” Charlie went to touch her heart, then remembered that she wasn’t wearing any clothes and awkwardly touched his own heart instead.

Celeste hugged him, trapping his hand against his chest.

“I think ... that I am the way I am ...” Celeste said between sniffles. “Because of the life I’ve been dealt.” She wiped her nose and broke the hug.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I’ve been through so much crap, that I really just want to be happy. I spent so many years crying. Now, I want to laugh.”

Charlie smiled at her and shook his head. “It’s hard to believe that you’re only eleven years old.”

“Almost twelve.”

“Really? When’s your birthday?”

“December 10th.”

“Mine’s December 12th,” Charlie said with a surprised grin.

“No way! We should celebrate together! But on December 11th. So it’s right in between both of our birthdays.”

“It’s a date.” Charlie suddenly looked scared. “Wait, not a date date. Just a day. That we’ll celebrate together. Because you’re only eleven.”

“Almost twelve,” Celeste grinned.

“Right, so why don’t you go put some clothes on?”

“We’re done practicing for the night? We didn’t really learn much.”

“I learned plenty.” Charlie turned around as Celeste slipped back into her clothes. He really had learned a lot. He learned that he had to treat Celeste the dragon just like he treated Celeste the eleven-almost-twelve-year-old.

They went into the tent and Charlie, apron tied around his waist, cooked up the best onion soup Celeste ever had. Charlie told Celeste all about his parents and his house and growing up with six siblings. Celeste told Charlie all about her mother and upstate New York and growing up as an only kid in a remote house tucked away in the woods with no neighbors nearby. She mentioned that she used to listen to the radio every night and how much she loved music. Charlie then pulled out his guitar and sang a few of his favorite songs from The Curse.

“Wait, I know this band. But aren’t they called The Cure?”

“They have a special charm on the ’s’ in their name,” Charlie explained. “Muggles can’t see it, so they call the band The Cure, but really they’re a wizards band and their real name is The Curse.”

“Is that because they’re anti-muggle?” Celeste asked.

“No, actually, they’re very pro-muggle. I read somewhere that their name was supposed to symbolize how two different viewpoints can both be valid, and they were encouraging wizards to try to understand muggles better.”

“Oh. And what was that song you were singing? It sounded like Lullaby, but the words were all wrong.”

“Yeah, I think the muggle version is called Lullaby. The wizards version is called Levifold.”

“There’s a muggle and a wizards version of the song?”

“Most of their songs have two versions. And the wizards version often talks about magical creatures. I think Bartholomew Black was going to be a magizoologist if the band didn’t take off. Lucky for us it did.”

“Bartholomew Black?”

“Yeah, sorry. Muggles know him as Robert Smith.”

“Why does everything about them have a wizard and a muggle version?”

“Not sure, actually. Perhaps because Black is half muggle, or perhaps just for fun. Or maybe it’s to differentiate them from the pure wizards group The Weird Sisters.”

“Never heard of them.”

“They have a similar style, but cater exclusively to the magical community.”

Charlie played a few of their songs, then a few more Curse songs. Eventually Charlie mentioned that they would have a long day ahead of them tomorrow and suggested going to sleep. He set up two cots in one corner of the tent. 

Celeste changed into her incredible hulk pajamas and climbed into one of the cots. Charlie took off his pants and shirt and climbed into the other one, a few feet away from her. Half an hour later a cold foot poked underneath his blanket and found the crook of his knee. He jerked awake.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Celeste whispered. She had pushed her cot right next to his. “I couldn’t sleep, and you know, physical contact helps me relax.” 

“Mmmm, ‘s okay,” Charlie mumbled. He rolled over and pulled his pillow right over his head, but he also stuck one of his feet into Celeste’s cot. From that night on, every time they slept in the tent, they slept with their cots pushed right next to each other and their feet touching.

The next day Charlie had Celeste do several tests. He asked her to do flips and twists and even follow him on a broomstick as he zigged and zagged and rose and dove. He had her breath fire and measured the range: twelve feet.

Then he asked her to change back and forth as many times as she could in one minute: thirty-seven complete transformations, and the final transformations were much slower than the first ones.

“This is what I want to really focus on first, the actual transformation. I think the most important thing we need to learn is how you change, why you change, and what we can do to prevent it, if you don’t want to change.” Charlie said.

“When you say why,” Celeste mused. “Do you mean what triggers the change? Or why I even change at all? Why I’m not totally human, like everyone else?”

“Both. The more we learn, the better. Do you know the answer to any of these questions?”

“Well, like I said, my memories are really fuzzy. But I can remember bits and pieces. I know that I change when I’m scared. Like, deeply scared. For my life. Or when I get really, really angry. But that doesn’t happens often.”

“Do you know what helps keep you human?” Charlie asked delicately. Celeste shook her head.

“Well, I have a suspicion. I think that physical contact might be a factor. Let’s test that. I’m going to hold onto you, and I want you to try and change.”

“No. I’ll hurt you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll put a slow falling charm on myself and a bubble shield around my head and chest.” Charlie demonstrated the effects of the combined charms by flying his broom twenty feet up and jumping off.

He fell like a feather to the ground, making wild motions and screaming bloody murder the whole way, just to make Celeste laugh. He purposely flipped at the last moment to land on his head, which didn’t actually touch the ground, but bounced as if he was wearing a balloon helmet.

“See? Safe and sound.” Charlie glanced up at his broom as it floated lazily back to the tent.

“Alright, let’s try it then,” Charlie said as he moved to stand next to Celeste. He reached out and held her hand and put his other hand on her cheek.

“I’m ready. Go ahead and change.” Nothing happened. “Celeste, really. You can change.”

“I-I can’t,” she whispered. “It ... it won’t come out.”

“Maybe we wore you out? Your changes were slowing down earlier, as if it was harder.”

“That’s true, but I’ve always been able to change when I want to.” Celeste looked almost frightened. “Wait, let me concentrate.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t speak to me.”

“Alright.”

“Shh!”

Charlie pressed his lips together and made a funny face. Celeste giggled and then closed her eyes. She concentrated on her heart, willing it to rip in half and release the beast. But Charlie’s pulse distracted her. His thumb on her cheek. His fingers squeezing hers.

She grimaced, and finally screamed with the effort of trying to change despite his touch. Then she doubled over, breaking contact with him, and finally felt the painful release. 

She lifted her head to look for him, to make sure that she hadn’t hurt him. He stood right in front of her, shocked, but unhurt. She had managed to change while keeping her face in the same spot and letting her body shoot out behind her.

“Alright,” Charlie said slowly as he reached up and placed a hand on her face. “That was well done. Let’s try it again.”

He taped his head with his wand and the transparent bubble around his head popped, but the one around his chest stayed intact. He placed his forehead against hers, and held her face in place with both of his hands. 

“Change back.”

Celeste just hummed reluctantly.

“Change back, and don’t hurt me.” 

Nothing.

“Come on, you did this last night. Concentrate. Think about bringing the rest of your body here, under your head.”

Celeste closed her eyes and focused. She changed but kept her eyes closed. She could feel Charlie’s forehead on hers, his hands on her cheeks. She felt hot and afraid to breathe.

“Good. Now do it again in reverse. Change back into a dragon, and put your body behind you. Keep only your head here.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“I know you can. I believe in you.”

“I ... I can’t. I can’t when you’re touching me.”

“Focus. You just did it.” Charlie moved his hands so that they were hovering an inch away from her face. “I’m right here.” He moved his forehead back slightly, leaving less than an inch between their heads. “You can do it.”

Celeste hummed with equal parts of frustration and concentration. Then released the beast.

She opened her golden eyes and looked directly into Charlie’s blue ones. He smiled.

“You did it.”

Celeste felt her heart skip a beat with hope. The hope that maybe, she could control this.


End file.
